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POEMS OF HOPE 



POEMS OF HOPE 



BY 

OLIVER W. BARNARD 




CHICAGO 
THE LAKESIDE PRESS 

1906 



./I ^^3?^ 



UB«ARY of 00NoH£5S.^ 
I wo tioDJes rtetciive<« I 

AUG 12 iy08 



C®PY B. 



Copyright, 1906 

BY 

OLIVER W. BARNARD 



TO THE READER 

THE author of these poems does not set up any 
claim to scholarly attainments or superior 
poetical acumen, the most of them having been 
produced in the intervals of business and labor 
merely as a recreation or amusement, v^ithout a 
thought of their pubHcation. They v^ere v^ritten 
several years ago, and his admiration for them in- 
creases with age, and so decides to give them a 
chance for their lives, hoping the reader may be 
interested and benefited by their perusal, and that 
there may be enough found in the sentiment to 
compensate for the v^rant of elegance in the diction 
of the composition. 

The Author. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Spring 5 

Hope 7 

Love's Young Dream ...... 8 

The Coming of Day 9 

Charity . . . ii 

The Angel of Death 13 

"Planting Commit a Sthring" . . . j - 15 

Gathering in the Golden Maize . . . . 16 

Croquet . . . . . . . - 17 

The^Muskeeter" 20 

Susan Jane 21 

Lincoln ........ 22 

To my Aged Father 25 

The Fairy ........ 27 

My Nine Colts 34 

The Ancient Farmer . . . . . . 37 

Departed Years . . . . . . - 41 

The Summer Storm ...... 43 

The Angel of Light ....... 44 

"When the Angel Beckons Me Away" ... 46 
To Izetta on her Sixteenth Birthday . . . .48 

The Beautiful Land of Light . . . . 51 

November ........ 53 

"The Temple of Enchantment; or, Flora's Kingdom" 56 

The Spirit of the Air 63 

To Libbie ........ 70 

Our Fate 72 



The Joys of Life ....... 

A Foregleam ....... 

"I Love the Old Farm Yet" . . . . 

The Lighted Path 

Christmas . . . . . 

The Sleigh-ride . . . 

A Legend of the Kankakee ..... 

The Beautiful ...... 

The Incubator; or, The Hardships of "Harold the 
Hatcher" ....... 

The Pioneer ..... 

July . . . . . . 

He Rests in the Mansions of Peace 
Morning ...... 

To Fannie on her Fifteenth Birthday . 

"The Wilderness shall Blossom as the Rose' 

The Little Brown Bird 

The Milk-white Mare of the Mountain . 

The Fisherman's Friend . 

The Beggar's Last Christmas 

March 

The Peace of the Prairie .... 

To my Father on Attaining his Eightieth Birthday 
April Showers . . .... 

The Young Man in Search of an Easy Place . 
Come ...... 

Kankakee Times ..... 

The Voices of Evening 

October 

The New Year . . . . 

A Vision of Peace .... 

The Pewees of the Porch 

The Poets of Peotone .... 

The Sacrifice ..... 



77 
79 
8i 
86 
88 
90 
92 
94 

104 
112 
116 
117 
118 
119 
123 
127 

131 
141 
144 
148 
ISO 
15s 
159 
160 
164 
166 
167 
169 
170 
172 

183 
189 
192 



Summer Days .... 

September ..... 

The Two Girls .... 

The Angel of the Mansion 

To Mrs. Richard Jaquish . 

The Christian and his Gory God . 

The Ram and the Robber . 

Lines on Goldie Barnard 

The King's Revenge 

A Night in Early Spring 

The Victim 

How Donaldson Died . 

ToungTaloung .... 

Great Toung Taloung. 

To the Artist Who Painted my Portrait 

Lines ..... 

The Toiler's Friend 

Dick and the Mouse . 

A Scrumptious Girl .... 

In Commemoration of Gen. U. S. Grant 

The Fairies of Spring 

"Jerry-go-nimble" 

Gone ..... 

The Widow's Joy 

Mantenau .... 

The Light of the Hearth-stone 

Sunshine .... 

Dolly's Dead 

The Answer .... 

Thomas Brown . 

Christmas Chimes . 

A Blighted Life . 

The Last Days . . . 

Tuff 



195 
197 
199 
203 
207 
211 
212 
218 
219 
227 
228 
232 

237 
242 
244 
246 
247 
248 
249 
252 

253 
256 

258 
260 
262 

268 
277 
282 

283 
285 
287 
289 
290 
291 



Uncle 'Bijah Dole . . . . 

The New Bell .... 

A Tribute to Departed Worth . . 

The Veteran .... 

Lines Addressed to Mr. and Mrs. John C 

The Poor Heathen's Fate 

Early Autumn . . . . 

Nil Desperandum 

Angels .... 

The "Iron Hand" 

The White Wings of Progress 

The Maid of Manteno 

Morning, Noon and Night . 

A Wail of Woe 

April .... 

The Robins . 

May .... 

The Broken Link 

Three Score Years 

Welcome 

The^Crimes of Earth . 

The Rain on the Roof 

Optimism .... 

Three Maidens Fair 

The Saw-mill of the Ancient Wood 

The Light of Hope . 

The Lesson of the Leaves 

Voices from the Mystic Shore . 

Goodwill .... 

The Invitation 

The Land of the Lonely 

The Lilies of Life . 

Our Two Boys .... 

Keep the Spirit Young 



Bundy 



292 

- 295 
297 

. 298 
300 

. 301 
302 

• 3°3 
305 

- 307 
3" 

. 312 

314 
. 316 

319 
. 320 

321 
. 322 

323 

- 327 
328 

• 33^ 
332 

• 335 
33^ 

. 338 
339 

. 342 
346 

- 348 
349 

• 351 
353 

- 356 



Memories of the Past ..... 


357 


Lines Addressed to A. W. ... 


■ - 360 


Another "Last Leaf" ..... 


. 361 


The Dawn 


- 364 


Fair Haslett Park . . . , 


366 


Home at Last . , - 


. 368 


The Cook-book 


370 


The Columbian Exposition 


- 371 


Cora Dean 


372 


The Wanderer 


- - 376 


Time's Mystic Measure 


. - 382 


My Rural Home 


- 384 


"The City White Beside the Inland Sea" 


390 


The Beautiful Snow .... 


■ 395 


The Joyful Day 


397 


Called from her Play .... 


. . 398 


The Hamlet where I was Born 


400 


He Sleepeth Well 


. 402 


The Girl that Laughs 


403 


The Girl that Scolds 


. 404 


Two Golden Lives .... 


405 


Bird and Tree 


. 408 


To the Four Granddaughters Who Sent Christmas | 


Greetings in Verse .... 


411 


A Hapless Life 


- 412 


The Winds of the Prairie 


413 


The Farmer's Life 


- 415 


The Songs of Childhood 


. . 416 


The Rocky Mountain Hunter . 


. 418 


The Squirrels of the Grove . 


419 


The Feast of the Tatterdemalions 


. 421 


Palingenesis 


424 


Moments . . . . 


. 426 


Musing ...... 


428 


xi 





Hesper; or, The Unfolding ..... 430 

The Realms of Nature 518 

A Modern Instance. ...... 519 

The Departed ....... 522 

Lines Addressed to Miss Lilian Dole . . . 523 

The Farmer's Institute . . . . . 524 

Destiny ......... 527 

Elemental Fury ....... 530 

At Grandpa's on the Farm . . . . -531 

Home 533 

Winter Evenings . . . . . . - 535 

" City by the Inland Sea " 537 



POEMS OF HOPE 



SPRING 

The bright and joyous days are come, 
The brightest of the year, 
On swelling buds and opening leaves, 
Sweet flowers do now appear; 

Gladbirds are singing sweetly now 

Their joyous notes of love. 
In thankfulness to nature's God 

The source of Hfe above. 

Ten thousand times ten thousand buds 

Are springing into Ufe, 
All nature's now most beautiful 

With happiness is rife. 

With richest fragrance now is filled 

The circumambient air 
From blossoms of ten thousand trees. 

So beautiful and fair. 

-The birds of passage all are here, 

Bright messengers of joy. 
How gladly, too, we welcome them; 
Nor any would destroy. 

The crocus and the violet 
Are first to come in bloom, 

The tulip soon does follow them 
Bright colors to assume. 

5 



The lilac, peach and almond trees 

in beauty now appear; 
Responsive to man's purest taste — 

His lonely heart to cheer. 

And in their depths of tenderness, 

A voice of love is found 
Which speaks of fruitage yet to come, 

In no uncertain sound. 

While man and earth and ocean's depths 

And insect, tree and flower 
Are pouring forth their thankfulness 

Unto the Supreme Power: — 

For nature's rich and precious gifts — 

The fresh and balmy air. 
For hope, and life, and strength, and health. 

That come to banish care. 

For hfe from death is springing forth. 

Most wondrous to behold. 
More glorious and beautiful 

Than prophet e'er foretold. 

The bright and joyous days are come. 

The brightest of the year. 
Let hope and love and joy abound. 

The merry spring is here! 

April 4, 1878. 

6 



HOPE 

As o'er the sea of life we sail, 
And through its shoals we run, 

How seldom would Hfe's purpose fail. 
How seldom be undone. 

If we could always hopeful be. 

By trusting in the right, 
And could the bright side always "see 

Presented with its light. 

Could we but scan life's whole estate, 

Its purposes unfold, 
We'd find a "Sacred Book" of fate 

More precious far than gold. 

We'd find in life more love than hate, 

Its beams shed all around. 
More good than evil in our state 

Would always sure be found. 

A "silver lining" hath each cloud. 
For God does naught in vain; 

So none with "boon of life" endowed 
Have reason to complain. 

Though light and darkness alternate, 
The light hath most control. 

Bright hope the mind doth elevate, 
'Tis "anchor of the soul." 

April 8, 1878. 



LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 

Of love's sweet dream let poets sing 

Their lays of richest story, 
Let sculptured art its magic bring 

To catch the living glory — 

Let painters w^ith their gift divine 

Paint life in colors glowing — 
Let all tell o'er this tale of mine, 

Love's bountiful bestowing — 

Yet all must fail as all have done. 
To tell love's matchless powers, 

How life must ever sweetly run, 
Through love's enchanted bowers. 

Its length and breadth, its height and depth 

All tenderness expressing! 
Its hope in life, its prayer in death. 

All for another's blessing. 

The trees and flowers, and streams so bright. 

How beautiful and smiHng! 
The world seems bathed in joyous hght. 

All sorrow now beguiling. 

"The golden hours on angel's wings," 

Pass over now unheeded 
While universal nature sings, 

'Twas only love was needed. 
8 



If there 's no life for man but this, 
Its purpose would be thwarted 

When separation ends the bhss 
Of lovers that are parted — 

But over there, on yon bright shore. 
We'll meet and tell the story 

Of death and separation o'er, 
And life that's crowned with glory. 

April 12, 1878. 



THE COMING OF DAY 

THE PAST 

In the olden time — in darkness drear, 
Man looked for a sign — his heart to cheer, 
He looked in weakness, he looked in dread. 
And he looked when all but hope had fled; 
Men in all ages, men of all climes. 
Have always looked for millennial times, — 
The angel of hope, — his guiding star. 
Has lighted his path, though from afar; 
The future of man, in figures cast. 
By prophet and seer of ages past. 
Have told of a time, — a better day. 
When sorrow and sin should pass away, — 
A "Savior should reign, a thousand years," 
And man's eyes no more be bUnd with tears. 



An "Utopian age" or "golden isle" 
Where he dwelt in peace and knew no guile, 
Where the Spoiler Death, with his fatal dart. 
No more should enter, and pierce the heart. 
Where love supernal sweet anthems raise. 
And the earth be filled with joy and praise. 

THE PRESENT 

The coming of day is looked for now, 
With an earnest heart and anxious brow, 
By milHons who are in darkness bound, 
Whose terrible lives is one dull round 
Of toil and trouble, and blighting care. 
Overflowed by waves of dark despair, — 
Yes, 'tis coming now, the prophets say, 
As in olden times, they looked for day, — 
'Tis a light divine — for man's dark soul. 
Which gives joy to earth, from pole to pole, 
Yes, this is the day, and this is the hour, 
When inspiration's mighty power. 
Is pouring through all its floods of light. 
And it soon must rend the gloom of night, — 
To lead man upwards, this light is given. 
To exchange for gloom, the joys of heaven. 

MORAL 

Every day that dawns is the very best 
That has ever dawned among all the rest, 
So it's ever here, since time began, 

10 



And must ever be, in God's great plan,— 
To still grow brighter, and brighter still. 
Till truth and wisdom the earth shall fill. 
May I, 1878. 

CHARITY 

In the toils and struggles 

That beset us in fife. 
With prospect so dreary. 

Filled with darkness and strife, — 

When sore disappointment. 
With vexation and care. 

And that gall of anguish 

That soon blanches our hair. 

Have spent all their fury, 
Having done all they could, 

To render us hopeless, 
And forsaken by good, — 

Then Love, a good angel. 

On the breeze spreads her wings 

And comes to us gently, 
And most lovingly sings. 

A song of the angels, 

And it's burden is this: 
''Without a kind spirit. 

You can never know bhss. " 
II 



Then Hope in bright raiment, 
Like a bright shining star, 

Comes now on glad pinions — 
Though she comes from afar. 

And bids us take courage 
And not faint by the way, 

"For the darkest time always, 
Is just before day." 

Then comes sweet Charity, 
And in white is she dressed. 

And says, "all that happens 
Is always for the best." 

She thinketh no evil. 

But covereth the sin, — 
The door she then opens, 

So Love and Hope may come in. 

Behold fair Charity! 

She is best of the three, — 
Sweet angel of mercy 

Unto all she must be. 

She teaches forgiveness. 

That sweet balm of the soul. 

She teaches the erring. 

They themselves must control. 

12 



"To err is but human 
To forgive is divine," 

To this law of Charity, 
Should we ever incline. 

For this, best sentiment. 
Ever under the Sun, 

Is, ''Charity for all 
And malice toward noney 

May 8, 1878. 



THE ANGEL OF DEATH 

In the morning of Hfe, when the angel of death 
Comes into love's household just to stop the sweet 

breath, 
Like frost in the Spring-time, that withers the 

flower 
The life of the loved one fades away in an hour. 

Like the path of the cyclone, when the storm-king 

hath flown 
The hearts of fond parents, are left bleeding and 

lone 
Like leaves of the flowers when the sunlight hath 

fled. 
Their bright hopes of promise are now withered 

and dead. 

13 



In the noonday of life, when ambition and power 
Like the Pyramids old to the heavens do tower, 
Then "the angel of death spreads his wings on the 

blast," 
And the power of the mighty is a thing of the past — 

Like the fall of the oak, the great monarch of trees, 
Is the knell of the mighty, as borne on the breeze — 
And ambition and power are now thought of more 
When Hfe's feverish dream, lo! at midday is o'er. 

In the evening of life, when the sunset is near. 
Like the gold on the leaves, when the Autumn is here 
Like the soul of the just, in the glow of its sheen. 
When the angel of death hovers over the scene. 

Is the closing of life, in the fullness of years. 
When the joyous spirit in freedom appears. 
Now freed from the clay, that has fettered its power, 
It enters the realms where the skies never lower. 

An angel of mercy is the angel of death. 
As he stands by the portal, to watch the last breath. 
Then waits at the river, to ferry us all o'er. 
Lo! in mercy he comes, to open life's shining door. 
May 5, 1878. 



PLANTING CORN MIT A STHRING" 

In the days of our fathers, 

In the long time ago, 
In the Spring-time they planted 

All their corn with a hoe. 

When they got their " ground " all ready, 

Then at it they would go, 
They "furrowed" with a shovel, 

Then planted with a hoe. 

Then they took the girls and boys 
And placed them in the row. 

While the girls done the dropping. 
Then the boys used the hoe. 

Many funny things were said. 
Much wild-oats did they sow, 

For they all had a good time 
Planting corn with a hoe. 

They were happy and content. 

But never did they know 
Of any better way than 

Planting corn with a hoe. 

Our fathers, they were pious. 
And they could pray and sing. 

But never did they dream of — 
"Planting corn mit a sthring." 

15 



Until this age of progress, 

Who would thought of such a thing 
As the Dutchman truly said of — 

"Planting corn mit a sthring." 

But then Haworth was the man, 

He's nobler than a King, 
And the first one that thought of — 

"Planting corn mit a sthring." 

Then Haworth we will honor 
And his praises we will sing. 

For we are all getting rich 
"Planting corn mit a sthring." 

May II, 1878. 



GATHERING IN THE GOLDEN IvIAIZE 

When the sun shines bright and clear 
In the autumn of the year. 

The farmer then sees busy days, 
Gathering in the golden maize. 

At the peep of early dawn. 

To the field he's up and gone, 

And he's busy all day long, 
While he sings a grateful song. 
16 



For his harvest now is grand, 
From his fields of richest land, 

And he's adding to his store 
Every autumn more and more. 

And the world beyond the sea 
Is enriched as well as he, 

For all creatures, not in vain, 
Feed upon this golden grain. 

November 15, 1878. 



CROQUET 

It has been said, I am sure, 
But whether true I can't say, 

A good Presbyterian 

It was invented croquet. 

'Tis a game for the million. 
Both for the old and the young. 

And its praises by lovers 
Have never failed to be sung. 

'Tis the best game ever known 

For young lovers in their teens, 
To show their love on " the sly" 
And not go behind the scenes. 

17 



When the bright Spring-time appears 
And the young grass shows the green, 

On the soft lawn all arrayed 
May the players gay be seen. 

We hear the clack of the balls 
In the country and the town, 

From early morn' till dewy eve 
Do they drive them round and round. 

They will muster on the lawn, 
All come out on dress parade. 

The grandsire and the grandson, 
The grandmother and the maid. 

When they will play a matched game. 
Or for themselves every one. 

After they've "tipped for the go," 
Is this famous game begun. 

They drive them through the wickets, 
And two at once if they can; 

Who first strikes " the turning stake," 
Is now counted the best man. 

And now back they go again. 

Passing up the other side 
With clatter and talk and glee, 

Something that's never denied. 
i8 



"There now, I guess its my shot," 
"Hold on there, it was'nt your play." 

" Kate, did you make your wcket." 
" John give me a tight croquet." 

"There, now I am a rover." 

" Well, then come down here to me. 

Then go up there and part them, 
They'r together, don't you see!" 

"Hello there, you've got my ball." 
"That's so, I Hke to have two." 

" Now, Mary, that was a flinch." 

" Say there, did you put me through." 

The game will soon be closed, 

"There now, we have beat you out," 
Is now heard by the victors, 

In a chorus do they shout. 

"Well, you can't do it again," 

The vanquished are heard to say, 

So they marshall on the green. 
And another game they play. 

Now croquet is the fashion. 
While the fashion is the game. 

And whoever can't play it, 

Dame fashion considers lame. 

19 



It affords relaxation, 

It unbinds the mind of care, 

O'erladened with life's burdens, 
It must lighten everywhere. 

May 27, 1878. 

THE "MUSKEETER" 

The winning cards, holds the muskeeter, 
Do all you can, you never can beat her — 
She always holds trumps, bowers and aces. 
And plays for necks, noses and faces. 

She comes to your bedside softly stealing, 
While for your ears is gently feeUng — 
Her song of love is soft and soothing — 
Your pillow of rest kindly smoothing. 

Every one knows her famihar buzz'n, 
And the kinship claimed is second cousin- 
She's sure to find you day or night. 
And comes prepared to "take a bite." 

The kinship claimed is "blood relation"— 
Of course she comes to draw her ration, 
But little cares if neck or joint — 
She wins the game and makes her point. 

May 26, 1878. 

20 



SUSAN JANE 

When I think of lovely Susan, 
My tears fall down like rain, 

Her first name it was "Susan," 
But her other name was " Jane." 

Her soft eyes, black and tender. 
And her long hair in a train — 

Her teeth as white as marble, 
Oh! my lovely Susan Jane. 

We vowed from early childhood 
That nought could part us twain, 

Oh! I cannot Hve without her. 
My own lovely Susan Jane. 

She'd sing to me so sweetly. 
In a soft entrancing strain, — 

But now no more I'll hear her. 
My dear lovely Susan Jane. 

Yes, she was tall and graceful. 
As the grandest queen of Spain, 

As "handsome as a picture" 
Was my darhng Susan Jane. 

But now she's gone and left me 
And she'll ne'er come back again ; 

She's gone to Cahfornia, 
Oh! my poor Susan Jane. 

21 



We used to play together, 
Oh! it bursts my heart with pain, 

To think those times are over, 
Oh! my precious Susan Jane! 

I'll go to California, 

Yes, I'll cross the mighty main, 
I'll search this wide world over, 

But I'll find my Susan Jane. 

If I should fail to find her. 
Why then sure I'd go insane. 

And leave this world araving. 
So then good-bye, Susan Jane. 

May 28, 1878. 



LINCOLN 

Gaze downward through the misty past. 
Its legends scan with care. 

Now upward through all ages roam. 
Then for thy task prepare. 

Go search the tomes of Grecian lore. 
That gild with light her name. 

Then on Rome's pomp and splendor gaze- 
The records of her fame. 
22 



Let countless ages of the past 
Now of their heroes tell — 

Yet none, in wealth of moral force, 
Our Lincoln can excel. 

He like an Alpine rose above 
All who have gone before — 

In manhood's noble splendor we 
His Uke will see no more. 

He stands alone — he has no peers, 
To all the world a friend — 

He had no malice in his heart, 
It would his bosom rend. 

The champion of equal rights. 
He knew no base desire, 

While on the altar of his heart 
Burned Freedom's Sacred Fire. 

From humble walks of Ufe he came. 
To fortune's smiles unknown — 

His hfe and death a sacrifice 
For human kind alone. 

When treason with its poisoned breath, 
Assailed the nation's hfe. 

He undismayed in grandeur stood, 
Amid the fearful strife. 

23 



When carnage like an avalanche 
Its deadly missiles hurled, 

It was his moral courage saved 
The Republic oj the World, 

When civil war its bloody hands 

Had lifted to the sky, 
Into the breach he threw himself, 

Like Winkelried, to die. 

The dusky sons of Africa 
Are pouring forth their lays. 

In ceaseless rounds of thankfulness 
His honor love and praise. 

He freed a race in bondage held — 
In darkness black as night. 

He struck the fetters from their limbs 
And placed them in the Hght. 

He freed Columbia from the curse 

Of ownership in man — 
He wiped the plague-spot from her face 

And placed her in the van. 

And when his work so grand was done 
And peace returned again, 

A bullet sent by fiendish hate 
Went crashing through his brain. 
24 



Four million manacles he takes, 

On wings of love he flies, 
And lays them at the shining gate — 

His passport to the skies. 

And millions yet unborn will come 
And speak with praise his name. 

While all the coming ages will 
Applaud his honest fame. 

July ist, 1878. 

TO MY AGED FATHER 

My Father Dear, my pen I hold, 
To speak of scenes both new and old, 
To speak of Time's fast-rolling car, 
That 's borne us onward now so far. 
To speak of struggles and shadows dark. 
Which on our souls have left their mark, 
To speak of scenes now in the past, — 
Of sunshine o'er our pathway cast — 
Of joys and sorrows come and gone. 
While time's deep flood was flowing on. 

Just five and seventy now art thou, 
With silver locks upon thy brow, 
Thy form some bent, — but rugged still, — 
Thy mind as clear as a rippHng rill : 
When backward now thou turnst thy gaze, 

25 



To childhood's bright and joyous days, 
The span is short, or seems to be, 
Since thou wert at thy mother's knee, 
Receiving there her fond caresses — 
And on thy Hps love's purest kisses. 

When Time's thus ghding swiftly by, 
'Tis wise sometimes to ask him why. 
He stops not for our infant years, — 
Heeds not in age our grief and tears. 
The tide of time forever flows. 
It ebbs not for our friends or foes. 
Full fifty winters have come and fled. 
And left their snows upon my head. 
And fifty summers, as they come and go. 
Upon my cheeks have left their glow. 

A half a century's rolling years, — 
Its lights and shades, its hopes and fears. 
The experience gained in life's great schools. 
With age and wisdom our ardor cools; 
We move with caution, we scan with care. 
When for life's problems we'd prepare. 
My health and hope and strength are good. 
My mind more vig'rous than in young manhood 
Each day I strive some good to do, — 
Or point some one to the right and true. 
26 



When comes the time, as come it must, 
For my mortal part to change to dust, 
I'll go with gladness, as sinks the sun, 
In the glowing west when his work is done. 
The waves of time on life's rough sea. 
Have swept the branches of thy fam'ly tree, — 
But two are left where many stood, 
A grand and noble brotherhood; — 
But over there on the other side 
You'll stand together by the golden tide. 

For nearly four score years thy feet, 
Through winter's snows and summer's heat. 
Have o'er Hfes rugged pathway tread, — 
Its storms received upon thy head; 
The time draws near, t'is short at best. 
When thou wilt reach the realms of rest. 
And meet the loved ones gone before. 
Who're waiting now on the shining shore. 
Of " the better land," with love-lit eyes, 
To welcome thee home with glad surprise. 
July 21, 1878. 

THE FAIRY * 

Over the hill-top 

Under the tree, 
Down by the river, — 

You can't catch me. 

♦What the author personates by "The Fairy" is left for the reader to discern. 
27 



I am a Fairy 

So blithe and gay, 
I sing in the night-time, 

And dance all day. 

Over the mountain, 

Under the sea, 
I am a Fairy 

So bhthe and free. — 

Out on the ocean 
Over on the land, 

Many are the millions 
At my command. 

I help the miller 

To grind his corn — 
I help the hunter 

To sound his horn. 

My home's on the mountain, 
I Hve in the vale — 

I rest on the river 
Or ride on the gale : 

Down in the valley, 
Close by the shore — 

Look for me quickly! 
You'll see me no more. 
28 



I dwell in the forest 

And scatter the leaves — 
Sing on the housetops 

And under the eaves. 

I am a Demon! 

Up in the morn, 
Leave them so quickly 

Sad and forlorn— 

I am an Angel! 

Coming at noon 
Laden with blessings, 

Bringing so soon — 

I am a Demon! 

Coming at night, 
The fair and lovely 

I wither and blight — 

I am an Angel! 

Out in the sun, 
I play with children 

Till their play is done. 

I go with the sailor 

Over the sea, 
He wouldn't be a sailor 

If 'twasn't for me — 
29 



I go with the Pilgrim 

Over the plain — 
Under the palm-tree 

Meet him again. 

The waves of the ocean — 
The sands of the plain — 

The snows of the Arctic, 
The South-land rain — 

The rose and the myrtle — 
The oak and the pine — - 

The snake and the beetle, 
Are children of mine. 

I am a Fairy 

With silken wings, 
I stop and listen. 

When the wood-bird sings. 

I go with the sailor 

Down to the deep, 
Where only the Fairy 

Sent him to sleep. 

I fly o'er the river, 
I skim o'er the lake. 

And both are silent 
When my leave I take. 

30 



I sail o'er the brooklet 
When Cometh the spring, 

It flows on joyous 

And sweetly doth sing. 

I bear good tidings 
By sea and land — 

The fate of millions 
Hold in my hand — 

I play with the flow'rs, 
Then dance in the sun — 

And chase the shadows 
Wherever they run — 

I am an Angel 

So bright and fair — 
I am the Demon 

Of dark despair — 

I pass with the farmer 

Over his field, 
To me he's thankful 

For his 'bundant yield. 

To the bridal chamber 

Then do I go — 
The bride and her lover 

I leave them in woe — 

31 



Up to the heavens 
I rise with the smoke, 

Down in the valley 
I fall with the oak — 

I work for the iceberg 
The fig and the vine, 

Then dance with the UHes 
In the moonshine. 

I kiss the ringlet 

On the maidens brow, 
And hear her lover 

Plighting his vow. 

I bring to the farmer 
His hope and joy, 

I fly to his harvest 

Which I soon destroy— 

I go with the soldier 
When on his beat, 

And shield the wounded 
From the cold and heat. 

The maid in the morning 
I wake v^dth a kiss — 

Then in the evening 
Rob her of bliss. 

32 



I fly with the Hghtning — 
Move on the cloud, 

Rest on the rainbow 
With beauty endowed. 

The king with his power 
I come to assist, 

The king has no power 
Me to resist. 

I Hved before Adam, 
Saw Christ on the sea 

Walking the waters 
Of deep GaUlee. 

I was with Frankhn 
Hunting the Pole, 

And saw the parting 
Of body and soul. 

Now I bring sickness. 
Then I give health. 

Here I cause suffering 
There I give wealth — 

I go to the eastward, 
I go to the West. 

I go to the wretched, 
I go to the blest. 

33 



I go to the northward, 
I go to the South, 

Descend in the rainfalls 
And scorch in the drouth. 

Now I am going, 
My story is told, 

I am a Fairy 
Who never grows old. 

I am a Fairy 

So bhthe and free, 
Where-ever I go to, 
There will I be. 
July 26, 1878. 



MY NINE COLTS 

'Tis of my Colts I fain would tell. 
They're bright and smart, I love them well. 
There's Jessie, Bessie, Daisy, Nancy, 
They are such ones as suit my fancy, 
While Vic and Brock and Frank and Josie 
Are tall and sHm, or snug and cosey. 
And then Belgarde, the last of all, 
Is black and slick, and straight and tall, 
And Nancy Ann with lofty tread. 
Is never so pleased as when she's fed, 

34 



With Jessie Petite who's rather small, 

But fat and plump as a butter ball, 

There's Frank and Brock, their color bay, 

And both were foaled the self same day ; 

And neither knows which is the best. 

For neither yields when comes the test. 

Their hmbs are straight, they move with ease. 

As much alike as are two peas. 

Bessie Lee is so kind and true, 

Will do anything you want her to, 

And Belgarde Vic and Josephine, 

Are high bred colts as e'er were seen — 

Are yearlings past, as horsemen say. 

And should you visit them ev'ry day. 

Or go to their pasture once a week, 

Josie must kiss you on the cheek. 

Of Daisy Dean I now must tell. 

The sad mishap which her befell, 

'Twas on a sultry summer's day, 

I started forth to cut my hay. 

And when I reached the meadow green, 

There by her dam stood Daisy Dean, 

With sickle bright as warrior's shield. 

I scarce had cut half cross the field. 

Leaving a narrow lane behind, 

Down which came Daisy like the wind, 

And ere her presence I discovered. 

Her foot was by the sickle severed. 



35 



Then like a torrent flowed her blood, 
As on three Tegs she trembling stood, 
Then quickly home my team I drove. 
Ne'er halting till I reached the grove, 
And left poor Daisy hobbhng on. 
As best she could while I was gone. 
But now my breast with pity burned. 
As swiftly to her I returned. 
Her wounded limb I then upbore. 
To staunch the blood did water pour, 
Then down we laid her in the grove, 
(For 'gainst our wish she never strove) 
Upon the grass beneath the tree. 
Beside her dam that she might see 
The Surgeon's skill and kindly heart, 
To thus restore the severed part. 
Which soon he did in order fine. 
With aid of stitch, and spUnt, and twine. 
And now we thank Dame nature's power. 
Which gave it strength each day and hour 
Until at length 'tis sound and well. 
As now my Muse must deign to tell. 
She's living yet to see her name 
Engraved upon the scroll of fame. 
July 19, 1878. 



36 



THE ANCIENT FARMER 

I'm going to tell 'bout ''what I know" 
Of the farmer's life in the long ago; 

Of how he hved and what he done, 
His course of life so smoothly run, 

Where he was born and how he died, 
And mayhap something else beside. 

Our hero was born as I've ''heard say," 
In his mother's room in the good old way; 

In autumn mild on a balmy morn. 
With hair as soft as silks of corn, 

In an humble cot or cabin rude. 
Where fashion's sway did ne'er intrude. 

He lived and grew and soon waxed strong, 
His voice as clear as the wood-bird's song. 

And of this family was number ten. 

Who'd come to dwell by the shady glen; 

In the humble cot with but one room. 

With shed in front, where stood the broom. 

This home was in the forest wild. 
Where art and learning never smiled, 

Our hero now is quite a boy. 
His father's pride, his mother's joy, 

And to the mill, ten miles away, 
The horse can ride without delay, 
37 



To take the grist to the miller old, 

Who makes the grain worth more than gold. 

For the "staff of life" in that lone cot, 
Is a thing sometimes not easy got. 

And often there when the cloth is spread, 
They take their meal without any bread. 

He helped his father shell the corn; 

For his mother blew the dinner horn, 
But had no knowledge of law or rule. 

For he never was known to go to school. 
But by the winter evening's firehght 

In vain he tried to read or write. 

But years have come and passed away, 
Our farmer boy is a man to-day; 

We left him riding his horse to mill 
Carrying his grist o'er vale and hill. 

The grist in one end of the bag alone; 
In the other end he carried a stone. 

He still persists in carrying it there. 
The grist to balance across his mare. 

The reason given was heard to say; 

"Afy good old father alers done that wayy^ 

"My father's way was right and true^\ 
"And nothing better do I wish to do.^^ 

38 



He farms it now in ancient style, 
His farm a forty with sandy soil, 

His house a cabin, twelve feet square, 
And an eight-foot ladder forms the stair. 

His roof's of ^^ Shakes,^ ^ split with his axe. 
He "chinks and daubs" to stop the cracks. 

His hearth's of clay (he has no bricks,) 
His chimney's outside, of mud and sticks. 

He has two windows and one door, 

His table stands on a "puncheon" floor, 

The floor of the loft, where the children sleep. 
Is laid with shakes three or four deep. 

His children nine are sound and hale. 
And four are boys and five female. 

His wife and girls can weave and spin. 
His boys the fox and wolf can skin. 

His scythe and sickle, his axe and hoe. 
Are all the tools he cares to know. 

He has six dogs, an ox and cow, 
A pony, a pig, and a wooden plow, 

A loom on which their "jeens" is wove. 
They cook their food without a stove, 

He says, "that's the way my father done, 
And I must be his faithful son." 

39 



Upon a hook and a ^'leather whang'' 
Above the door does his rifle hang, 

Upon the rifle hang pouch and ball, 
Ready for game in the frosty fall, — 

A curious weapon (now unknown), 

Fired by sparks from an old flint stone. 

And overhead, on pole or line, 

Hangs fruit of tree and pumpkin vine, 

The walls festooned where skeins hang down, 
Dyed in colors of walnut-brown. 

His brooms are made of hickory poles. 
His shovel a shake, to Hft the coals. 

''I've no larnin," he says so cool, 
"Never went to a deestrick school," 

"My father knowed what's best for me." 
"No use of schools could he ever see," 

"And had I lamed to read and rite" 
"I'd bin above my bisness quite." 

He Hved and died as his sire had, 
So seldom happy and seldom glad, 

"The good old way was always best, 
And no new thought he e'er possessed. 

But passed through life unto the end 
Without a thought his ways to mend. 
40 



Thus passed this ancient man away, 

A relic of a darker day. 
He died serene — O' happy thought! 

Was buried beside his father's cot, 
His last desire, with dying breath, 

That his might be Hke his father's death. 

Were all the world such men as he, 
Then no progress could there be; 

But from the ages of the past, 
A darkness over life he cast. 

And all would dwell in darkness here 
And hope from man would disappear. 
August lo, 1878. 

DEPARTED YEARS 

Departed years have come and fled, 

And left our dreams among the dead. 
Why should we mourn departed years ? — 

They hold the records of our fears. 
Our love and hate and brightest hope. 

Which give to life its breadth and scope. 
The past is gone and dark regret 

Can't steal the joys that'r ours yet. 

Life's way is now through Time's dark vale 
To where we meet the "boatman pale," 

The past has brought us all we've had. 
All of the good and all the bad, 

41 



And as we've sowed so must we reap, 
The chaff's been burned, the grain we keep. 

Years are the steps up life's steep stair, 
The lower the steps the less the care. 

In life's young years our plans and schemes 

Are often baseless as our dreams. 
And disappointment dark as night. 

Is prone each fond desire to blight, 
But wiser counsels come with age. 

As through life's book we turn each page, 
And when we reach our heart's desire. 

We always see another, higher. 

So grasp the moments as they fly, 
And give to each when passing by. 
Some noble thought or noble deed, 

To bless some one who's sore in need, 
As onward through life's path we roam 

Toward our bright and better home, — 
Let's leave the seed-time of the past. 

To reap the harvest — coming fast. 
August 20, 1878. 



42 



THE SUMMER STORM 

When August's sultry sun had set, 

High piled the clouds and higher yet — 
The inky sky was dark as doom, 

The lightning's flash lit up the gloom — 
The clouds on earth their torrents poured, 

While crash on crash the thunders roared, 
The wind swept past with mighty power, 

And all was o'er in one brief hour 

The night is past, the storm hath fled. 

Now comes the sunshine in their stead — 
A golden flood with gentle sway 

That sweeps the shades of night away — 
The trembling leaves with drops of wet — 

Pure gems of Hght by nature set. 
To glitter in their bright arry 

As jewels in the crown of day. 

A day whose sun's a shield of gold, 

That through the azure depths is rolled — 
That pours a world of dazzling light 

Upon a sea of verdure bright, 
Which gives the air sweet rest and peace 

And noxious vapors quick release — 
Behold, the storm that sweaps the earth 

In nature's wisdom had its birth! 

43 



Life's dream is like a summer storm, 

When clouds of sorrow round us form, 
The clouds obscure the light of day — 

Our souls are sick with dark dismay, 
Then bursts the sunshine overhead, 

The clouds and gloom from life have fled, 
Thus speeds this day of checkered life; 

To one where joy and peace are rife. 
August 25, 1878. 

THE ANGEL OF LIGHT 

An angel stood on a fleecy cloud. 

That slept in heaven's blue — 
With a voice of sweetest love endowed. 

And words Hke pearls of dew. 

His face shone bright as the noonday sun, 

His raiment pure and v/hite — 
A radiance o'er his features ran 

Of pure angehc Kght. 

His thoughts hke ghttering diamonds sped. 

To earth's enshrouded zone — 
The darkness grim like a plantom fled, 

And light supernal shone. 

'Twas a hght divine, whose ray is truth. 

To bless man's dark estate — 
'Twas a light of love for age and youth, 

From heaven's shining gate. 

44 



He left his home so joyous and bright, 
Far, far from earth's dark sphere — 

He came on wings of love's dehght, 
Man's drooping heart to cheer. 

Until now the world was draped in gloom, 
While hope from man had fled. 

And the shade of superstition's doom 
O'er all the nations spread. 

But now the beauteous light of truth 
Streamed round the darkened earth, 

Like the joys of ever blooming youth — 
On this day had their birth. 

To look upward now man soon began 

This angel form to see. 
Who was like a never setting sun, 

That shone to make men free. 

A zephyr came from the land of the sun ■ 

The summer cloud passed by, 
But soon came back for the shining one 

Left waiting in the sky. 

To catch the sweet anthems rising above — 

A chorus clear and loud! 
From miUions of happy homes of love. 

To the angel on the cloud. 

45 



To his home in the realms of the blest 
He passed with the speed of light, 

From a world long by sorrow oppressed — 
Now so joyous and bright! 

When he had reached the radiant shore, 

Angels welcomed him home, 
With songs of rapture they all sang o'er, 

That rose to heaven's dome. 

He left his home of light for a while — 

Lit up a world in woe, 
Then returned again with joyous smile — 

Shining with brighter glow. 
September 21, 1878. 



''WHEN THE ANGEL BECKONS ME AWAY' 

The fear of death in ages past 
It's darkened shadow o'er man did cast — 
He dwelt in the realm of constant fear 
That the "King of Terrors" must soon appear 
And bear him off to the "Stygian Shore," 
To dwell in darkness forevermore. 
But now in the light of a better day 
"Angels come and beckon him away." 

46 



The fear of the "Monster", grim and bold, 
Was the bane of life to young and old. 
He robbed the mother of her prattling child, 
And left her with grief and frenzy wild. 
He robbed the husband of his darling wife, 
The hope and joy of his wedded life. 
But now when friends can no longer stay, 
"Angels come and beckon them away." 

He robbed the groom of his loving bride, 

Then mocked his grief when he groaned and 

sighed. 
Man shook with fear when he reached death's 

door, 
Through it he passed to an unknown shore — 
Passed as he thought to a world of woe, 
A fathomless pit in the realms below — 
For it was not his, this "brighter day" — 
"Now the angels beckon us away." 

The fear of death is now fading fast. 
Its darkened shadow is gone at last. 
Man does not think of the terror dire. 
But yields up this life for one that's higher. 
Led by the angel up heights so far. 
Beyond the space of the beaming star — 
And he goes with joy and not dismay, 
"For the angel beckons him away." 

47 



We'll meet again when this hfe is o'er, 
In the realms of bHss on the "shining shore" 
To those regions bright we all may go, 
Where there is no death, no pain nor woe. 
To do my work here with righteous care, 
Will be for this future to prepare. 
So I may with gladness the call obey, 
"When the angel beckons me away." 
October 12, 1878. 



TO IZETTA ON HER SIXTEENTH 
BIRTHDAY 

Just sixteen years ago to-day 
Your eyes first opened with dismay 

Upon this world so strange and wild, 
A darhng, sweet, and helpless child. 

You breathed the air, you op'ed your eyes 
With feelings of a strange surprise. 

You hardly knew what it all meant. 
So screamed aloud with discontent. 

Then stopped and thought the matter o'er, 
And said you'd sleep an hour or more. 

And then your tears would all be dried, 
Perhaps you'd feel more satisfied. 
48 



And when you woke and looked around, 
So many new things had you found, 

For life your int'rest grew apace. 
And a baby smile lit up your face. 

And soon your strength and "cunning ways" 
Increased and drew from all their praise. 

You were the sweetest darling child 
And all our troubled hearts beguiled. 

Soon, too, your little pattering feet 
Upon the floor made music sweet, 

And then you'd sit upon my knee. 
And asked so nice my watch to see. 

You'd kiss your "papa" o'er and o'er, 
And then would ask for "just one more," 

And other things you'd want, forsooth, 
Among the rest was "pa's pick-tooth." 

Your innocence and childish glee 

Were more than all the world to me, 

Your love for "pa" so pure and true 
Was equalled by his love for you. 

Now sixteen years have rolled away 
Since first your eyes beheld the day, 

You'r standing now on the verge between, 
Where child and woman may both be seen. 

49 



'Tis one step back to childhood's hours, 
But one forward to woman's powers, 

What coming years aaiay have in store 
You see not now at Kfe's young door. 

Let come what may, remember this: 
Shun all the paths that lead amiss, 

Be kind to all you chance to meet, 
Be just and live tibove deceit. 

Remember, too, that pride and scorn 
For no lady true v?ere ever born; 

Be gentle, thoughtful, true, and wise; 
Nor high nor low should e*er despise. 

Now while at school you do attend, 
I these few verses to* you send. 

To bear the love of Father — Mother, 
The affection of you j Sister — Brother. 

May you in knowledge soar above. 
Remembered by us aHl in love. 

And may you not, wh eree'er you roam. 
Forget the charm of ' childhood's home. 

Now here's a stanza fior each year 

Of hfe you've pasf jed upon this sphere, 

And may your futu^ c^ years of life 
Be free as now f j^m cai!:e and strife. 

50 



X 



And may the angels from above 
Be always near you with their love, 

And may your life, my darling child. 
Be always pure and undefiled. 

October i6, 1878. 



THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF LIGHT 

We know of a land where the angels dwell, 

Far away on the shining shore — 
'Tis a land of rest and forever blest 

By the light of love evermore. 

Our loved ones come back from these realms of 
light. 

From their homr 35 of splendor above — 
Where isles of th' e seas are fanned by the breeze, 

That bears \^ ^e sweet incense of love. 

They tell h ^^ the streams of delight ever pour,— 

Of the 1 ^^jys no mortal can know, 
How rive ^.g of Ught bring joy to the sight. 

As thr ,^^^^ the green valleys they flow. 

How ^ -he beautiful hills and valley's so bright 

^^ e pressed by a jubilant throng, 
W^ ^re voices of love rise sweetly above. 
And thrill the glad mountains with song. 
51 



No darkness nor death, no sickness nor pain, 
Where childhood and age pass away — 

No sorrows of time are found in that cUme, 
Where life's holy laws all obey. 



There fadeless flowers perfume the sweet air 
That fills every sense with delight, — 

'Tis the land of God, no spoiler hath trod, 
So brilliant, and blooming, and bright. 



This home of the soul the children of earth 

Have seen in their visions sublime. 
When sorrows have come and stricken them dumb, 

In the darkened pathway of Time. 



Sages and seers with ecstatic delight 
Have gazed through its portals of day. 

While wrapt in a trance, have reached an ad- 
vance 
That swept all their sorrows away. 

This radiant realm, the home of the race. 
Where love's swelHng tides ever roll, — 

Where raptures of bUss, not dreamed of in this, 
Ever pour and pour on the soul. 

52 



Where life's golden stream forever does flow, 
With manhood forever in bloom — 

This joy with surprise leaps down from the skies 
And gleams through the vault of the tomb. 
November i, 1878. 



NOVEMBER 

When autumn's close is drawing nigh, 
With rain and sleet and frost and snow. 

When clouds and mist blot out the sky, 
Our hearts with sadness overflow. 

The feathered songsters of the wood 
Have left us for a softer cHme, — 

The flow'rs that in their beauty stood 
Have perished by the hand of Time. 

Alone the Blue Jay's voice is heard, 
So shrill among the leafless trees; 

He feels his spirit in him stirred. 
As whistles past the chilly breeze. 

The days are short and thick with gloom, 
The owl flits by on solemn wing, 

The nights are long and dark as doom, 
No more we hear the robin sing. 

53 



The withered leaves are scattered wide, 
That late in golden splendor hung; 

They bloomed a while — too soon they died, 
By blasts of biting winter stung. 

The bees are silent in their home, 

No more they seek the op'ning flow'r, — 

The butterfly no more doth roam 
Amid the green and shady bow'r. 

The wild goose now forsakes the stream, 
And to the South land plumes his way, 

As high in air we hear his scream, 
ForeteUing of a colder day. 

And now the busker's shouts resound, 
While gathering in the golden maize. 

The happy hunter hears his hound, 
As on the trail he loudly bays. 

The squirrel seeks his leafy nest, 

Where nuts are stored for winter time. 

To there enjoy his quiet rest, 

When comes the rigor of this clime. 

The Snowbird and the Chicadee 

Are here with all their cheerie powers. 

Come with their mild and merry glee. 
To bless this wintery world of ours. 

54 



Yet some have died whom none regret^ 
The housefly and the stinging gnat, 

Who cares to have them Hnger yet? 
Unless perchance, the drowsy bat. 

The laughing brook will soon be dumb, 
When bound by winter's icy chain; 

But sings for joy when spring shall come 
To loose its lovely life again. 

The frost of death must come to all, — 
Soon this life's fitful dream is past! 

The shadow of the hearse and pall 
Now o'er our blighted hopes is cast. 

But winter's reign will soon be o'er, 
And spring return with blooming flow'rs. 

The song of birds be heard once more. 
To echo through ambrosial bow'rs. 

So Hfe's green spring again will bloom, 
Beyond the frost of death and time — 

Beyond the portals of the tomb, 

We'll find this joy, this life subHme. 

November 21, 1878. 



55 



**THE TEMPLE OF ENCHANTMENT, OR 
FLORA'S KINGDOM" 

Read before the Kankakee County Horticultural Society, at 
its meeting of May 12, 1879. 

I wandered through a sunny dime, 

It seemed not Hke this world of Time — 

'Mid scenes of grandeur, rich and rare. 
Surpassing flight of fancy fair. 

Where beauty decked in bright attire. 

Seemed born to bless the heart's desire — 

Where sparkling streamlets rippled past, 
And golden light o'er all was cast. 

The air was fresh and sweet as morn, 
With incense on the zephyrs borne. 

And melody from birds of song 

Was wafted through the vistas long. 

I paused amid this scene so grand, 

Where wild enchantment filled the land, 

To breathe the odor of the flow'rs, 
And rest beneath ambrosial bow'rs. 

And while thus taking sweet repose. 
Fair Flora to my view uprose — 

Like magic, to my raptured sight. 
Attired in robes of purest white. 

56 



**This realm" she says, "is mine to rule — 

I rest beside the waters cool — 
My temple home is near at hand, 

Where flowers bloom at my command:' 

'Tis there they're ever found in bloom, 
Above the bHght of frost or gloom, 

There in my palace, pure and bright, 
'Mid radiant gleams of rosy light. 

And should you choose to be my guest. 
And in my floral home to rest — 

You must not speak, nor move your eyes, 
And it shall greet you with surprise." 

Then in an instant as I gazed 

With wandering senses half amazed — 

I stood beneath a gauzy dome 
With Flora in her temple home, 

The enchanted temple of her care, 

Beguiled with wonders strange and fair, 

That round on every side I met — 
The wonders I shall ne'er forget. 

It's walls of gossamer so fine, 

Through which the sun's soft ray doth shine ; 
It's tow'ring dome, o'er all — that spanned 

A realm more weird than fairy-land. 

57 



Here flowers of every tree and vine 

Around the arbors intertwine, 
Of every hue and every shade 

Here with the fragrant breezes played. 

Fair Flora turned and on me smiled, 

Then led me on through labyrinths wild — 

Through scenes of splendor that must daze 
The eyes of all who on them gaze. 

This temple far above the plain — 

Where Beauty with her Queen doth reign. 

And where no winter blast e'er blows — 
O'erlooks a lake in calm repose. 

The Cygnet on its glassy breast 
Is seen in downy plumage drest — 

The sparkling Dolphin without fear 
Is sporting in its waters clear. 

And round its green and pebbly shore, 
With brightest verdure covered o'er — 

Are seen in quiet at the dawn 
The mother and her playful fawn. 

And among the blossoms just above. 
Is heard the cooing of the Dove — 

And where the leaflets kiss the skies, 
Is seen the Bird of Paradise. 

58 



And o'er this wild, enchanting scene 
The sun pours down his rays serene, 

And through the bright and cloudless day 
Is heard the Wind-Harp's tuneful lay. 

This Goddess fair sits on her throne — 
This realm of grandeur all her own — 

The Spirit Beauty at her side, 

Bedecked with gems Hke Fairy Bride, 

To wake the pleasure of her Queen, 
By adding lustre to the scene — 

And for their gay and festive hours 
To weave for her her crown of flowers. 

In rapture now I gaze on this, 
Like moments of ecstatic bliss — 

To thus behold the queen of grace — 
Enthroned within her sacred place. 

A floral splendor meets my sight. 

That human language ne'er can write — 

My every sense its grandeur laves — 
O'erwhelms me hke the ocean's waves. 

The Spirit Beauty moves with grace — 
A joyous hght illumes her face. 

And points me to such flowers divine 
That round this throne in glory shine. 

59 



Where graceful fountains ever play — 
And rainbows dance amid their spray — 

Where gold fish sport with glowing breast, 
Like beings beauteous ever blest. 

Entrancing strains that bless the day, 
From choristers in plumage gay — 

Awake the echoes sweet and clear, 
That rise upon the atmosphere, 

Here thrill the soul with chorus sweet; 

And through the arches grand do meet 
Still other strains from distant dells, 

That like a river flows and swells. 

I'm beckoned to a mossy seat, 
Within a shady, cool retreat — 

Before the throne 'mid gems of light, 
That dazzles now my ravished sight. 

And here I rest beneath the rose. 
Forgetting all my earthly woes — 

As from the lips of Beauty rise 

This "Anthem of the Sunny Skies:" 

"Ere this day dawned no mortal eye 

Beheld this sacred shrine. 
Where dwells in love the goddess fair 

Whose nature is divine. 
60 



To do her bidding is my joy 

On earth and in the skies; 
I beatify the blushing morn 

With rainbow-tinted dyes. 

And in the summer evening's glow 
I paint the clouds with gold, — 

When sinks to rest the golden orb, 
That through the azure rolled. 

And when the full-faced moon appears. 
Grand empress of the night — 

And silver stars are in the skies — 
I glitter in their light. 

And when the bow of promise bright, 

With arch upHfted high. 
Its brilliancy is flashing forth — 

Then I am resting nigh. 

And when the spring-time decks the dale 

With colors bright and fair — 
On wings of gladness then I come 

And pour my treasures there." 

This pleasing song my spirit charms — 
My soul it soothes, my bosom warms — 

A mist now rises from the ground. 

That dims the sight and lulls the sound, 
6i 



It like a flash has come and flown — 
Pomona now sits on the throne — 

A matron hale with glowing cheek, 
Who kindly thus to me does speak:— 

''Behold" she says, "these fruits must be - 

Of every vine and every tree, 
Where once you saw the flowers fair. 

Ripe fruits appear in clusters there. 

They grow and ripen as I choose. 
In gold and crimson most profuse — 

For I'm the goddess, as you know, 
Who these rich bounties here bestow. 

Fair Flora decks the world with bloom. 
But when the reign I here assume — 

The treasures of the tree and vine 
In use and beauty then combine. 

To grace this temple from the skies, 
Ne'er seen before by earthly eyes — 

Until my sister, Flora dear. 

Had placed you 'neath its arches here. 

I turn to view the prospect grand, — 
When lo! I stood upon the sand, 

Beside a river bold and strong, 

That through a forest swept along. J 
62 



My Muse departs, my story's told, 
Which memory ever shall enfold — 

A story true, but yet may seem 
More like a vision or a dream. 

January 5, 1879. 

THE SPIRIT OF THE AIR 

There rolls around this dark terrestrial ball 

An ocean vast and deep — the breath of all 

Who live and move above the v^at'ry waste, 

And of sweet life on earth have had a taste. 

The waves and tides upon this sea of air 

Are but the pulses of a spirit fair 

That moves around the earth with lightning 

speed. 
Whose coming some must fear, and all must heed. 
The zephyrs playing in the morning sun 
Are but the smiles that o'er his features run, 
Like earth and sea and sky in blooming June, 
When bathed in softest Hght from full-orbed moon, 
Or hke the blushing morn whose golden ray 
Twines wreaths of smiles around the new born 

day, 
The smiles in which the fruits and flowers bloom, 
And hope's bright face shines o'er the vale of gloom, 
And hfe's deep stream flows on so bright and. 

fair. 
The spirit's sunny smile's felt everywhere. 

63 



But lo! he now assumes another form, 
As such becomes the spirit of the storm; 
And then when midnight darkness veils the sky, 
And Thorns loud voice like thunder rolls on high. 
And Jove's red bolt the oak does rend in twain. 
And bursting clouds pour down in floods of rain. 
The winds shriek past like demons in their course. 
And forests fall before their fiendish force. 
And ships go down bereft of mast and sail, 
As wild the angry spirit rides the gale. 
Behold him now where snows are drifting ^round. 
Where trees and flowers and fruits are never 

found, — 
Amid the frozen North — the land of death. 
Where biting blasts are but his frigid breath. 
Where to the rocks the glaciers ever grow, 
And all is buried 'neath eternal snow. 
'Tis there he reigns in undisputed sway, 
'Mid terrors dark, that never pass away. 
Again behold, where 'neath the palm-tree shade 
The wanderer's weary form is often laid. 
Where torrid heats do every day return. 
And blazing skies the fervid earth do burn. 
Where scorching simoons sweep the sandy plain, 
And showers of sand descend like burning rain 
Upon the pilgrim's lone defenseless head,— 
Then to this fiery spirit prayers are said. 
Again, when earthquake's awful voice is heard, 

64 



This globe's foundations to their depths are stirred, 

And cities sink amid destruction's roar, 

As did the mighty in the days of yore. 

When help is vain, and hope's bright form hath 

fled. 
And all sink down, the living and the dead — 
Mid thick and sulph'rous smoke — when tidal 

waves 
Are rolling over deep and watery graves. 
When none are left this spirit to address. 
Then onward he with speed of light doth press, 
To where bold Aetna's molten lava pours; 
And smoke of hamlets burning upward soars, 
That like a pall shuts out the light of day, 
Where all must perish, or must flee away — 
Ere blazing rivers from the mountain's crest. 
That onward flow without a moment's rest — 
A sea of fire extending to the plain. 
Consuming all within its wide domain, — 
Shall on them seize with fiery tongues of flame. 
And naught be left to tell of fife or name. 
'Tis then this frowning spirit of the air 
Stands heedless by nor hears the dying prayer. 
And still again, when o'er the smihng earth 
Is heard the voice of cheerfulness and mirth, 
And summer fruits have ripened in the sun. 
The harvesters rejoice — their task is done. 
And Peace and Plenty, sisters sweet and bright, 

65 



Abide in every home with pure dehght. 

And happiness, a river wide and long, 

Is flowing through the land with joy and song, 

When lo! there rises over this scene of bUss, 

A wail of woe, keen as a serpent's hiss, 

That pierces every nerve like barbs of steel. 

Which even hearts of stone the anguish feel, 

As stalks at noon this messenger of death 

And breathes over all his pestilential breath; 

And thousands fall touched by his fatal dart. 

With keenest anguish friend from friend must part, 

The voice of lamentation rends the air. 

Nor age, nor sex now does this monster spare; 

And as the days with sullen heat pass by. 

Still greater numbers lay them down to die, 

By road-side, street, or by the lonely wall. 

Till none are left to bury those who fall; 

And corpses lie to fester in the sun 

Until this fiendish spirit's course is run. 

And then in famine's ghastly form he comes 

And all our senses with his breath benumbs. 

And flowers wither that were wont to smile. 

And fair Pomona's heart he doth beguile. 

And then robs Ceres of her golden sheaves. 

And blights the grass and blasts the growing 

leaves. 
And human flesh he dooms poor man to eat. 
And mocks him wildly from his airy seat. 

66 



And millions perish by starvation's hand, 

And desolation spreads wide over the land, 

And none can e'er this spirit's wrath appease, 

Until at length it does his purpose please. 

And then 'tis onward is his starry flight, 

Alike regardless of the day or night, 

But on and on he keeps his airy course. 

Like flight of Time with unabating force. 

He piles the snow like mountains o'er the plain. 

Then rends the clouds and drowns the earth with 

rain. 
And when the cyclone sweeps the trembling earth, 
And earthquakes yawn — and mountains have 

their birth, 
He mounts the comet on its shining way 
And speeds to realms of everlasting day, 
Where round the sun 'mid golden splendor flies. 
And views the effulgence of his gleaming skies. 
And breathes the ether of this upper air, 
That glows with love and strength and beauty 

rare. 
The ambrosial nectar of the gods he sips. 
Then wisdom's golden words drop from his lips. 
In love and strength and goodness grows each 

hour, 
Until at length attains a God-like power, 
And unto mercy's mission doth incline. 
With feehngs grand and nature most divine. 

67 



An era past — he quits the flaming sun, 
Then back to earth — his mission soon begun. 
He woke the echoes of the vernal morn, 
And breathed sweet incense o'er the waving corn. 
The flowers bloomed where e'er on earth he tread. 
And rivers sparkled o'er their pearly bed. 
He healed the nations with his balmy breath 
And sang a requiem over the ''Hydra's" death. 
The winds he held — their fury did restrain, 
The thunders bound he with an iron chain; 
The floods retired, awed by his potent will; 
The snows dissolved upon the Arctic hill; 
The ocean smiled before his shining face; 
The earthquake fled and none could find his place. 
The air grew softer o'er the land and sea. 
While fruits and flowers appeared on every tree. 
The smiling moon walked grandly through the sky, 
The twinkling stars proclaimed their joy on high. 
The mountains in his might he leveled down. 
As once did Thor of mythical renown. 
To dust he ground the adamantine rocks, 
The wealth of Croesus from their store unlocks. 
The desert saw his face as past he sped. 
And smiled with beauty over the valleys spread. 
Where teeming millions come sweet homes to find, 
'Mid fields of fruitage rich that bless mankind, 
Now onward flashing over land and main — 
While richest blessings follow in his train, 

68 



And none are left in want, in gloom, or woe, 
But light and love on all he does bestow. 
The desert waste — the rugged mountain's brow, 
The frigid North — are blooming gardens now. 
The ripened earth 's now beautiful and fair, 
Her face is gleaming in the golden air — 
While round and round this spirit keeps his way. 
And all that live must feel his gentle sway. 
An age has pased — my Muse returns again, 
Her lyre attuned for angels and for men; 
For now the earth 's a charming paradise, 
Where man meets angels from the bending skies. 
And converse sweet does with them hold at will, 
As once did poets on Parnassus hill. 
Now wisdom's age is ushered in with joy, 
And happiness for all without alloy — 
While war and famine, pestilence and blight 
Are gone forever from this sphere of light. 
Man's nature 's now etherealized and pure. 
He dwells in peace and harmony secure. 
His moral stature now of finer cast, 
A halo bright throws over the murky past, 
His hfe and love are now so near allied. 
That angels bright walk daily by his side. 
From pure perennial fountains ever shine 
Supernal rays, whose Hght makes all divine. 
The time that seers and sages long foretold, 
In symbol deep or metaphor so bold, 

69 



When wisdom's ways should beautify the world, 
And death and darkness from its shores be hurled. 
Whence comes to man's frail mind this high- 
born thought? 
From whence the power this mighty change hath 

wrought ? 
From out the inmost depths of nature's soul 
Comes forth this power that all things doth con- 
trol, 
Its ceaseless forces through the air doth run, 
Embracing all since Time his course begun. 
The mission of the spirit is attained, 
The love sublime of all on earth has gained; 
And now triumphant reigns he o'er the air 
And rests amid the glory shining there. 
February lo, 1879. 



TO LIBBIE 

My lively, spicy little girl. 

You say, with me you'd like to whirl 
Amid the dance's mazy round, 

Where pleasures sweet are ever found. 

Were I like you, so young and bright, 
I'd dance with you till morning light; 

We'd dance the polka, jig, and waltz. 
And ne'er behold each other's faults. 
70 



And in quadrille we'd lead the set, 

Our places we would ne'er forget, 
We'd "right," and '4eft," and ''turn", and "swing," 

And "balance all" around the ring. 

We'd "alamand," and "honors all," 

And ne'er neglect the "prompter's call," 

And ever, while the music played. 
Sweep graceful in the "promenade." 

And through life's course (should you say, "yes,") 

Each other's lives we'd ever bless. 
We'd have a cot set round with trees, 

And there in love we'd live at ease. 

And should Dame Fortune on us smile. 
Our faithful souls she'd ne'er beguile. 

Or should she on us cast her frown. 

Our trusting hearts she'd ne'er cast down. 

But to life's music we'd keep time 

Forever in love's sunny clime. 
Our honey "Moon" should never wane. 

Nor sorrow chill our hearts again. 

And when our heads are silvered o'er 

We'd ne'er forget upon the floor 
Terp-sich-o-re, the goodess fair. 

But greet her gracious presence there. 
February 4, 1879. 

71 



OUR FATE 

To all must come the change called death, 

It levels all at last; 
Our toils must cease — we yield our breath ; 

Life's troubles here are past. 

To all who've dwelt upon the earth 

In time that's now past by — 
To all who yet must have their birth. 

All, all must surely die! 

The smiling babe of tender years 

Upon its mother's knee. 
Now innocent of guilt or tears 

Upon Hfe's stormy sea. 

The aged sire of years four score, 

Who totters with his staff. 
Whose trembling head is silvered o'er. 

And sorrow in his laugh. 

The maiden on whose rosy cheek 

Now beams the golden sun. 
Must hasten now her joy to speak 

Before her race is run. 

The matron in her active life. 

With infant at the breast. 
Must suddenly give o'er the strife 

And 'neath the roses rest. 
72 



The youth who 's poring o'er his books, 

To learn Hfe's golden way, 
Must hasten with astonished looks 

His summons to obey. 

The man who counts on coming years 

Of happiness and joy. 
Must leave his wife and child in tears. 

The hope in life destroy. 

The savage 'neath the forest shade, 

The king upon his throne 
Must in one common grave be laid, 

For none sleep there alone. 

The sailor on the ocean wide 

Oft finds a watery tomb, 
And coral forms he rests beside, 

Amid the silent gloom. 

Where millions, since Time first begun, 
Have laid them down to sleep. 

And millions more their course must run. 
Then sink beneath the deep. 

The prairie flowers are blooming where 
Man sleeps beneath the sod, — 

No voice is on the silent air. 
No trace where he has trod. 

73 



And by the river's pebbly shore, 

And 'neath its sparkling wave, 
And where the ocean's breakers roar — 

We find his silent grave. 

And on the mountain's rugged crest — 

In peace he 's sleeping there; 
And in the valley finds his rest. 

Beyond the reach of care. 

In gloomy caves he's changed to dust. 

Where darkness ever reigns; 
Where none would think their lives to trust 

Are found his sad remains. 

And 'neath the molten lava bed. 

Embalmed in adamant. 
Are found the cities of the dead 

Whom none can e'er supplant. 

It is the common lot of all, 

'Tis nature's wise decree 
That none upon this swinging ball 

She'd ever fail to free. 

As none escape this certain fate, 
Then why should grief and tears 

Oppress us with such crushing weight. 
Appall us with such fears? 

74 



This change is naught but nature's gift, 

To raise man from the dust, 
Into a brighter realm to hft 

Our confidence and trust. 

As much a part of nature's scheme 

As that of natal birth. 
Forever flows this golden stream 

Between the skies and earth. 

'Twas ever thus, 'twill ever be, 

As ages come and go, 
That life is like a restless sea 

Whose tides must ebb and flow. 

Since fates decreed that all must die. 

Why go with heart forlorn? 
Each second sees one reach the sky, 

Each instant some one 's born. 

As ticks the clock in marking time, 
Each tick sounds some one's knell 

Who's called away from this dark clime. 
In brighter climes to dwell. 

Then why should man of Death have fear, 

An angel in disguise. 
Who shows us those we love best here. 

Then gives us sweet surprise. 

75 



As on the other side of life 
Our loved ones greet us there, 

Who long since quit this mortal strife, 
Come now our joys to share. 

For death is not eternal sleep. 

As many have been taught, 
When plunged in darkness, wide and deep. 

Is lost the gift of thought. 

'Tis true, the body sleeps awhile 

Beneath the verdant plain, 
Then in the flowers that o'er it smile 

It leaps to life again. 

It was the living, breathing soul 
That woke the slumbering clay, 

And when no longer can control, 
Must leave it on the way. 

And onward in his course serene 

Remains the living man. 
With worthy deeds and noble mien 

The school of life to scan. 

His theme of thought he still pursues 

In boundless realms above — 
The works of wisdom there he views, 

Built by eternal love. 

76 



When comes thy summons, reader dear, 

Let hope's inspiring ray 
Drive from thy soul the baseless fear 

And light thee o^er the way. 

Nor go thou Hke the trembling slave, 
With terrors lashed, at night — 

In confidence approach thy grave. 
With visions pure and bright. 

March 8, 1879. 



THE JOYS OF LIFE 

A Song 

By the brook and o'er the lea 
Come the joys of life to me, 
In the fields and through the air 
Find I richest treasures there — 
Where the birds with joyful song. 
There my hours of bliss belong; 
In the grove, beneath the shade, 
Where life's sweetest music 's made. 

Chorus 
Come ye to Hfe's joyous feast, 
Come, the greatest and the least. 
Where the scene is bright and fair- 
Come and rest awhile from care. 



Where the blossoms brightest bloom, 
There I breathe the rich perfume — 
There amid the fragrance rest, 
Like the spirit of the blest. 
In the silent twilight dim 
Comes to me the Seraphim, 
While the gentle moonbeams play, 
Chasing all my cares away. 

Chorus 
And the morning's rosy dawn 
Comes to greet me o'er the lawn. 
Lifts my soul with pure delight 
From the shadows of the night. 
And the dew-drops for me shine. 
Bright as diamonds from the mine — 
While the zephyrs kiss my cheek, 
Come in joy, their love to speak. 

Chorus 
And the sunshine, broad and clear, 
Bids me walk and have no fear, 
While the rainbow's tinted dye 
Points me to the azure sky. 

All these beauties of the air 
In profusion I can share, 
With the earth beneath my feet, 
Making life a pleasure sweet. 

Chorus 
March 15, 1879. 

78 



A FOREGLEAM 

I sat in the shadows of evening, 

And my heart was oppressed with woe, 

For dark was the mantle of sorrow, 
And my tears beginning to flow. 

For the burden of Kfe was heavy, 
And my body was bent with years — 

I sat in the silence and darkness 
To relieve my sad heart with tears. 

For my heart was riven with anguish. 
And now Hope had hidden her face. 

And the stars had strayed from the heavens, 
And a gloom hung over the place. 

And long did I weep in the silence, 
And my head was throbbing with pain. 

When a mist came over my vision, 
And silence and sorrow did reign. 

When sweet was the vision of promise 
That came like the opening dawn, 

And a calm came over my spirit. 
And the sorrows of life were gone. 

For there stood my angel before me, 
And the darkness had fled away, 

And a light like the sheen of glory. 
Shone 'round as the brightness of day. 

79 



And the gleam showed the radiant beings 
Who descend from the realms of bliss, 

Borne down on the pinions of Mercy 
To the sorrowing ones in' this. 

And the light of their glowing features 
Was radiant with love divine, 

When appeared my home of the future; 
And I knew that that home was mine. 

For my angel showed me the vision, 
And I knew from the light within: 

I gazed on the radiant mansion 

Where all my lost treasures have been. 

And my spirit glows with assurance, 
Oh! how strong is the vital breath! 

For I've seen the Mountains of Beauty, 
Gleam over the Valley of Death. 

June i6, 1883. 



80 



''I LOVE THE OLD FARM YET." 

A BALLAD. 

The charm that soothe my youthful soul 
CHngs round me to this hour 

I rest beneath its holy spell. 
Submissive to its power. 

Chorus. 

How dear the old famihar scenes! 

I never can forget — 
The peaceful joys so pure and bright — 

I love the old farm yet. 

Again the visions of my youth 
Come teeming through my brain; 

I sit beside the purling brook, 
And hear the wild bird's strain. 

The dear old home is mine once more, 
I roam the meadows through — 

Or rest beneath the maple's shade. 
While all my skies are blue. 

The orchard's bloom — the robin's nest — 
The clover's sweet perfume — 

The morning's bright and rosy dawn, 
That scattered night's thick gloom ; 
8i 



The tinkling cow-bells strong and clear - 

The sheep-bell's minor note, 
Where fleecy forms so soft and white 

Are resting in their cote. 

The watch-dog's sharp and fretful bark, 

That tells of danger near — 
The twinkling stars in heaven's dome — 

The moonshine soft and clear. 

The cackling hens, and crowing cocks, 

The gobbler's grand display. 
The playful lambs upon the hills. 

The springing corn of May. 

The whippoorwill's menacing chant, 

The owlet's boding hoot — 
The fireflies' wild and merry dance, 

To music ever mute. 

The squirrel's Hthe and nimble form 

Among the branches brown. 
So busy now in dropping nuts 

For winter storage, down. 

With lively chatter all day long — 
Runs up and down the trees. 

Frisking in and out of his nest — 
There's naught but what he sees. 
82 



When Winter spreads the fields with snow, 

And flakes were falling fast, 
We rode beneath the robes and sang 

Defiance to the blast. 

The sleigh-bells sweetest music made, 
Our hearts were free and light, 

Our sweethearts sat beside us then, 
On many a winter's night. 

The school-house and the spelling match, 
Were reached with tinghng feet. 

Where 'neath our teacher's gentle rule 
We oft were glad to meet. 

When Spring-time's early days had come 

Dissolving snows were wet, 
We hied us to the sugar-camp 

Our troughs for sap to set. 

The maple gave us hquid sweet, 

That trickled in a trough; 
In kettles huge we boiled it down — 

'Twas sweet to sugar-off! 

The old red barn with gable roof — 
The horses, sheep and kine — 

The haymow where the eggs were found, 
The grunting, squealing swine. 

83 



When Night had dropped her mantle down 

O'er earth and sea and sky, 
And wintry winds were howHng past — 

The fireplace blazing high! 

With father, mother, sisters dear, 

And brothers, too, as well, 
Around that fireside's joyous glow, 

In peace we loved to dwell. 

Where nuts were cracked and cider drank, 

And stories read and told — 
Such joys as these so sweet and pure 

Were never bought with gold. 

When cold had bound the silvery pond 

With icy fetters strong. 
And frost was on the still cold air, 

And on our lips a song — 

Then 'round that pond with glowing cheek- 

Our skates upon our feet. 
How like the wind we loved to fly — 

Sweet pleasure, there to greet. 

The school-house then a temple was. 

Of learning, deep, profound. 
And 'round its portal winter days 

A happy group was found. 

84 



Long years have passed and Time has laid 

His frosts upon my brow, 
But ne'er can I those joys forget — 

They're present even now. 

No scenes of city Hfe can keep, 

The heart so fresh and warm 
As those enjoyed in early life, 

Upon the dear old farm. 

Remembrance of those early ties, 

A constant, bubbling joy! 
With only one regret to sting. 

We're only once a boy. 
October 2, 1880. 



85 



THE LIGHTED PATH. 

Our pathway through life's thorny ways, 
Where bleeding feet must often tread — 

Over rugged steeps, through darkest days 
A shining star hath overhead 

A gleam of Reason's purest ray. 
To Hght us o'er the rugged way. 

When passions dark sweep o'er the soul, 
O'erwhelming us in thickest gloom; 
Like mighty billows o'er us roll. 
And horrid forms our thoughts assume — 

Then Reason's calm, refulgent light 
Shines out upon our pathway bright. 

When storms of trouble dark and dire, 
The sun has blotted from our sky, 

And hope is dead — and all desire 
For life has ended — with a sigh. 

Then Reason,s voice so clear and plain. 
Bids hope and peace return again. 

O'er mountain crags — through valleys deep. 
Through forest-shade, or sunny vale. 

Or where the cyclone's dreadful sweep, 
Leaves desolation in its trail — 

There Reasons' star, the light of heaven. 
To light our path is kindly given. 
86 



When mists of superstition's night, 
Enshroud us Hke a veil of gloom, 

And all seems lost — in utter fright 

We feel upraised, the hand of doom — 

Then Reason's mild benignant mien, 
Appears with gladness on the scene. 

When fierce embattling hosts have met. 
Where rage and fury rend the breast — 

The earth v^^ith floods of gore is wet. 
And death its thousands sent to rest — 

At last is heard sweet Reason's voice. 
And hearts that bled once more rejoice. 

Where nations crumble and decay, 
And sink beneath the wave of time. 

And now and stronger have their day 

And flourish in their green young prime — 

There Reason sheds her brightest beams, 
And life its filled with golden dreams. 

Through summer's heat, and winter's cold. 

Through all the strife and toil of years, 
From fiery youth, to gray beard old — 

Through sunny smiles, or briny tears- 
Comes Reason's sweet and balmy breath. 
To smooth our way through life and death. 

87 



Our pathway lies over the boundless deep, 
Mad winds burst forth in fury there — 

Great waves dash on with a giant's leap, 
And all is dark — save the lightning's glare 

Then Reason stands at the helm to guide 
Our trembhng bark o'er the rushing tide. 

When wasting fever's scorching breath 
Has swept our souls with woe and pain, 

And on a balance life and death — 

But bounding health come back again — 

Then Reason's lamp illumes our path, 
And peace and joy our spirits hath. 

When weary years have come and passed. 
And raven locks have turned to snow. 

And earthly hopes are fading fast. 
And time's stern voice has bid us go — 

Then Reason Hfts the veil between, 
And shining spheres of life are seen. 
December 3, 1880. 



CHRISTMAS. 

Once a year does Christmas come, 
But from whence the gods are dumb — 
'Tis bequeathed for us to share 
All the pleasure's gathered there. 
88 



Like a blossom in the snow, 
Does it quickly come and go. 
Leaves fragrance pure and sweet, 
Mingled with the snow and sleet. 

From the ages past and gone. 
Like the light of early dawn — 
Like a mirage, from the east 
Comes the merry Christmas feast. 

When the worship of the sun. 
By the nations first begun, 
Then it was that Christmas day 
Led the sun his upward way. 

From the realms of frost and night, 
Back again with warmth and light. 
Filling earth with song and flowers 
By his grand deific powers — 

Here a Savior's love was born, 
On this early Christmas morn — 
Looking down with smiling face — 
Glad to bless the human race. 

And once more on Judea's plain, 
Was a Savior born to reign — 
Breathing love to all on earth, 
From the day that gave Him birth. 

89 



Thus the day is doubly dear, 
Unto milUons full of cheer — 
Like a day of jubilee, 
When from thralldom all are free. 

May good-will like incense rise. 
From all souls beneath the skies. 
And no heart that burns with ire, 
But must melt with love's desire. 

Let the anthem sweet ascend! — 
While the waiting skies must bend, 
Now to catch love's tender lay, 
On this merry Christmas day. 
December 25, 1880. 



THE SLEIGH-RIDE 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

Through the frosty air; 
'Tis the sweetest music — 

To a loving pair. 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

Through the crystal snow; 
What a ''boom" of pleasure! 

Everywhere we go. 
90 



Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

O'er the frozen track — 
When the horses slacken 

How the whip will crack! 

Tingle, jingle, jingle! 

While the breezes play — 
Now, a naughty snow-diift 

Has upset the sleigh! 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

Out beneath the moon — 
Now we're in the sleigh again! 

Jingled into tune. 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

What if I should kiss — 
Cheeks so red and rosy, 

Would it be amiss? 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

Have a photograph? 
"I accept with pleasure" — 

What a merry laugh! 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

How the music swells! 
And our hearts are throbbing 

With the merry bells. 

91 



i 



Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

But you'd hardly guess — 
What an awkward question! 

But she answered, ^^yes,^^ 

Jingle, jingle, jingle! 

While she named the day — 
Just a moment after, 

Sitting in the sleigh. 
January 24, 1881 

A LEGEND OF THE KANKAKEE 

Oh God! how cold it seems for my poor babe and 

me, 
Standing in the darkness, beside the Kankakee! 
All day I've wandered through the town, but all 

in vain — 

O my sore and aching heart — my throbbing, burn- 
ing brain ! 

And has it come to this, that we must freeze or 
drown ? 

No food or shelter for us in all this Christian town ! 

Now dark despair has seized me — darhng, shiver 

ing child — 
Your mother's brain is swimming, her thoughts 

are dark and wild! 
My sweet and helpless babe, if you had ne'er been 

born 

92 



Your mother ne'er had felt this undeserved scorn; 
As if sweet motherhood must be a dark disgrace, 
And not the holy fountain of all the human race. 
Four days I've sought for work, by which to earn 

my bread, 
And now four days have passed since my poor 

child was fed. 
Darling, had your father lived, this fate had never 

come. 
Though poor in purse, was rich in love — ours a 

precious home. 
Oh God! how cold it seems for my poor babe and 

me 
Standing in the darkness beside the Kankakee! 
Thank God, my unborn child can never live to 

know. 
How deep these bitter pangs, nor feel its mother's 

woe, 
For soon the waters cold must end this sickening 

strife — 
I've drained the bitter dregs; farewell to mortal 

life! 

Farewell to cold and hunger; farewell to scorn and 

pride; 
I leave you all forgiven here by the river side. 

O dear husband of my soul, if thou coubist only 

see 
Thy wife and little Effie here by the Kankakee. 

93 



But death has called thee hence, my best and only 

friend, — 
And here, my precious babe, our misery soon must 

end. 
Our lives are ebbing slowly here by the river's 

brim — 
We plunge into the waters, and soon w'ell be with 

him! 
February 2, 1881. 

It has been said that some years ago, about the beginning of 
winter, a young woman made her appearance in Kankakee, and 
that for one entire day she went from house to house, seeking 
employment as a house servant, but was refused admittance at 
every place; she bore a child in her arms, at the same time being 
enceinte. The following day her body and that of her child 
were found in the river. 



THE BEAUTIFUL 

Read before the Kankakee Horticultural Society, May 14, 
1887, at Kankakee, 111. 

It is the poet's gift and care 

To sing of beauty everywhere; 

To revel in the dawning light 

That rises fair on pinions bright. 

Or 'neath the noonday's fervid gleaming, 

His soul entranced while fondly dreaming 

Within the arbor's cool retreat. 

To breathe of fragrance pure and sweet, 

And trace the colors of the flowers 

That deck with beauty summer bowers. 

94 



When moonshine floods the sleeping earth, 

Then fairest fancies have their birth — 

Come trooping through the lighted brain 

Like spirits bright, awhile to reign. 

Through airy regions then they roam, 

In world's of beauty find their home — 

Yet leave the soul enraptured quite — 

'Mid the sweetest visions of the night. 

Awaking it to every duty 

That lies within the realm of beauty. 

Aesthetic taste must ever give 

The sweetest pleasures while we live. 

In harmony we ever find 

A crown of peace to bless the mind. 

It is the rainbow's gorgeous dye 
That wins the gaze of every eye, 
And where its splendors span the heaven 
A touch of joy to all is given — 
And when the sun is sinking low. 
And evening skies with purple glow, 
The admiration warms the heart 
With richer glow than painter's art, 
And leaves an impress on the soul 
More lasting than the printed scroll. 

And when the Spring-time's balmy breath 
Awakes the earth from Winter's death. 
And whispers love among her bowers, 

95 



i 



While 'neath her smile blush fairest flowers - 
Then spreads the lawn with carpet green, 
Where budding trees wave over the scene, 
And music sweet, — the voice of love. 
From songsters of the verdant grove, 
Is swelHng on the throbbing air 
In rythmic waves of beauty there — 

We view these forms, these sounds we hear 

With beaming eye and ravished ear. 

And rest beneath the flowering thorn 

Where incense on the air is borne. 

With glowing breast our souls admire 

The Spring thus clad in fresh attire; 

The love of Nature's varied forms 

Thus soothes the soul with sweetest charms,- 

Where sight and sound so softly blending 

The scene of glory far extending! 

Its beauty thrills our being o'er 

With deepest love for rural lore. 

Then Summer's golden days appear. 
The richest of the rolHng year! 
With brighter sunshine, softer skies, 
That give to earth her richer dyes; 
The fields rejoice with growing grain 
And verdure smiles o'er hill and plain — 
While evening's ever grateful breeze 
96 



Is murmuring low 'mong leafy trees, 

Still faintly bearing breath of flowers 

That bloomed so bright 'neath vernal showers, 

Then stealing forth in night's repose, 

To kiss the petals of the Rose, 

And gaze upon her lovely face, 

The fairest of the floral race. 

And lift the Balsam's gorgeous head, 

Now drooping o'er its lowly bed. 

Or wanton with the Lily's cheek. 

Or odors of the Primrose seek; 

Then toying with the tass'ling corn — 

Quick flies to greet the rising Morn. 

The Morn expands on dewy wings, 

And beauty bright from darkness springs. 

A rosy hue spreads o'er the heaven. 

And light and joy to earth are given. 

When Summer days have shorter grown, 

Young swallows from their nests have flown, 

The clover blossoms changed to brown. 

And on the air floats thistle down; 

The apple's cheek is blushing red, 

The day on golden pinions fled — 

The harvest moon is smiling through 

The glowing depths of ether blue, 

To hsten to the reaper's song 

In mellow cadence float along — 

While gathering now the fruits of earth, 

97 



k 



All hearts are light with joy and mirth, 
And gliding through the glowing air 
On wings of light supremely fair, 
Are flocks of fleecy clouds that seemi 
Like pictures in a fairy dream. 

Behold the mountain's rugged mien, 
With smiling vales that lie between. 
Through which there flows a charming river 
With joyous song to God, the giver, 
Along whose flowing banks we find 
A scene to soothe the restless mind — 
A landscape wearing Beauty's crown 
With music floating softly down — 
While loveliness in wanton guise 
Unfolds her charms to raptured eyes. 
A garden clad in rarest gems, 
And crowned with flow'ry diadems, 
Where every tree and shrub that grows 
A graceful form of beauty shows; 
Where sparkling fountains sport and play 
And silver streamlets turn to spray. 
The sun smiles down from his home above 
On a scene that thrills the heart with love. 

When Autumn's fruitful days are here, 
With best of weather and best of cheer, 
And crimson fruit drops from the trees, 
A healing balm sings on the breeze, 

98 



And loveliness with matchless form 
Has lent to life its dearest charm, 
x\nd touched with gold are ripened leaves, 
While Ceres smiles o'er garnered sheaves — 
The husbandman for bounties given. 
Has breathed his paeans warm to heaven, 
And Nature's sweet maternal care 
Has soothed to rest the heated air — 
Then all bow low at Beauty's shrine. 
And homage pay for the gift divine. 

When Winter's breath is on the air. 
And frost and death reign everywhere — 
With silent groves — the brook at rest, 
Asleep with ice upon its breast — 
And birds have flown the woody vale, 
(Save but the jay and silent quail — ) 
The rose that bloomed so sweet in June 
Has perished — ah, alas ! too soon. 
No more we sing the modest praise — 
The aster of the Autumn days! 
E'en now the violet's timid face 
Upon the earth can find no place; 
Yet Beauty has not fled the earth 
Nor Winter drowned all joy and mirth. 
Her name is stamped on crystal snows 
That wrap the earth in sweet repose — 
A mantle white and pure as heaven! 

99 



From bright ethereal regions given. 
While thus the earth is robed in white, 
Behold the empress of the night, 
That sits in majesty on high — 
The queenly splendor of the sky! 
With silver sheen is smiling down 
On trees that wear a crystal crown. 
And gUtter o'er the world of light 
As sparkling diamonds of the night. 
A scene of splendor, weird and fair. 
The winter night unfolds us there! 

The world is full of beauty bright 
For those who learn to search aright. 
We breathe it in the vernal air 
When blossoms bud in sweetness there. 
And then in Summer's golden hours 
It glows 'neath amaranthine bowers. 
When Autumn pours her fruitage down. 
Behold the jewel in her crown, 
And even Winter's frost and snows 
A wilder charm on all bestows. 
But most of all we find it rife, 
Enshrined within this human life. 
And all the sweetness gathered here 
Must bloom immortal in its sphere. 
And he who will, may drink at pleasure 
From founts unfaihng, without measure, 

100 



Whereof the soul 's entranced with joy, 

Which Time and Death can ne'er destroy. 

With admiration deep we scan 

Artistic works outwrought by man. 

The glowing form on canvas traced 

Portrays a fine aesthetic taste. 

The painter's skill, with utmost care, 

Has fashioned forms of beauty there, 

And to the cold and heartless stone 

The sculptor breathes a Hfe his own. 

Endowing it with every grace 

Bequeathed to hfe, in form or face. 

Yet all we see 's mere imitation 

Of models in the great formation 

Of Nature's grand, deific plan 

That culminates in God-like man. 

Behold the maiden's radiant face! 

In every gesture artless grace — 

In every glance of her witching eyes 

There lurks a poem in sweet disguise. 

No art can trace her form divine, 

Perfection breathes in every Hne. 

Her cheeks combine the pink and rose, 

Her brow as fair as mountain snows. 

Her auburn hair in circling tresses 

A silken luster quite possesses. 

Her teeth Hke pearls— of purest white, 

And lips the bloom of Love's delight; 

lOI 



[ 



And thoughts that know no stain or guile, 

With sweet forgiveness in her smile. 

A heart that ne'er has harbored wrong, 

A voice as sweet as an angel's song, 

With soul serene as summer's night, 

An angel's trust to do the right. 

On Mercy's mission oft she hies 

To wipe the tears from weeping eyes. 

And in her beauty lives to bless 

The bleeding heart found in distress. 

O maiden of the guileless heart! 

A thought of God, so pure thou art. 

The mould of manhood cast in light, 

A star of hope supremely bright! 

A beam of beauty from realms above. 

And born to bless with angel's love! 

From Nature's outward forms we turn. 

Her inward beauties to discern. 

'Tis Love that paints in beams of light 

Sweet Charity in robes of white. 

While Beauty bows at Love's behest 

And for the favor stands confessed. 

The beautiful inspires with love. 

While love gilds all, around, above. 

The hands that give when want is sore 

Are beautiful for evermore. 

The feet that kneel at Sorrow's shrine 

I02 



Are shod in beauty quite divine. 
The eyes that melt in pity's glow 
Shed sparkling diamonds as they flow. 
The heart that shields another's wrong, 
With Kght and beauty groweth strong. 
The gentle spirit that doth find 
Some good in all of human kind, 
Whose love of truth and justice burns 
Still brighter as each day returns; 
Whose words, as sacred as the soul, 
Must be admired while ages roll! 
Beyond this outward world appears 
The splendor of supernal spheres; 
The bright abodes of peace and rest, 
Where every soul with love is blest; 
Where dazzling glories greet the eyes. 
And ceaseless songs of gladness rise; 
Where charming Beauty rests at ease. 
Our rushing rapture smiles to please. 
But he that gropes in dark despair 
Cannot conceive the brightness there; 
'Till he the lighted path has trod. 
Can ne'er behold this smile of God. 
April 15, 1881. 



103 



k 



THE INCUBATOR 

OR 

The Hardships of "Harold the Hatcher." 

In early Spring, when vernal airs 

Have freed the earth from Winter's cares, 

Responsive to unnumbered prayers 

Not made in vain, 
And flocks of joyous birds in pairs 

Have come again; 

When Hope has plumed her golden wings, 
And hke a seraph sweetly sings 
Of love and peace she gladly brings 

For all the race. 
While gleams of glorious light she flings 

On every face. 

But yet no balm is on the gale. 
While storms again sometimes assail — 
Return to tell their winter tale, 

So long and cold. 
And then the sunshine thin and pale, 

Does all enfold. 

Just here the hen begins to lay. 
With cackle- a-tions on the hay; 
A nameless beast is heard to bray 

In sweet accord. 
For all feel Spring has come to stay, 

And thank the Lord. 
104 



A youth of promise, now it seems 
Is haunted in his nightly dreams 
With visions of some mighty schemes 

The hen to beat; 
While inspiration flows in streams, 

At fever heat. 



It 's true, the eggs the hen must lay, 
But he could beat her every day 
From January up to May. 

When hatching come, 
The hen retires in blank dismay — 

With grief is dumb. 

An incubator now is planned, 

And all the fields of science scanned. 

Her treasures lay at his command — 

This fact is clear. 
Her secrets he could understand — 

No doubt, or fear. 

He wrestles with this monstrous thought. 
And all the aids of wisdom sought. 
While ceaseless at his problem wrought. 

To work it through. 
x\t length his lab 'ring brain has brought 

The thing to view. 
105 



L 



To coax the biddies from the shell — 


*' 'T will work just like a magic spell" — 


Then by the thousand sure he'd sell, 




To all creation, 


And 


mountains high his fame would swell 




Throughout the nation. 


The incubator's now complete, | 


And, 


standing on four wooden feet, 


Has 


come with wonders now to greet 




This world of ours. 


And other incubators beat | 




In hatching powers. 


'Tis 


standing o'er the kitchen stove. 


The 


place for which it long had strove. 


But 


now it wants no more to rove. 




For all is well; 


No bird as happy in the grove, | 




Its joys to tell. 


Now 


, ''Harold the Hatcher," (such is his name,) 


Has all things ready for the game, 


And thinks he hears the trump of fame 




Roll on the air, 


And 


fondly looks from whence it came 




So sweetly there. 




io6 



He 's gathered eggs for many a day, 
And begs the hens still more to lay, 
For his machine has come to stay 

And prove its worth. 
While Hope sends down her brightest ray 

O'er all the earth. 

Five hundred eggs, enough, he deems, 
To test the spirit of his dreams, 
Are placed within o'er narrow seams 

And steam let on. 
Which upward flows in gentle streams 

And soon is gone. 

Now Harold's smiles are brighter growing. 
He hears the roar of roosters crowing. 
The stream of wealth will soon be flowing 

So deep and strong. 
'Tis smart he thinks to be so knowing, 

And ''get along." 

He's watched them morning, noon and night. 
And kept the fires a-glowing bright — 
Felt sure that all was going right 

Within the nest. 
But oft was in a weary plight 

For want of rest. 
107 



A yearning strong he has to see 

If now within young chicks there be, 

That soon from prison would be free, 

So breaks a shell. 
When lo! 't is hard — and ''woe is me!"- 

All cooked full well. 

Now from the greatest to the least, 

His friends flock in from West and East. 

On steam-boiled eggs they daily feast. 

But take 'em cold. 
None thought 'till when the riot ceased, 

The eggs were old. 

More eggs again he 's quick to buy. 
His faith undaunted, yet he'll try — 
He'll run his incubator dry, 

Without the steam. 
And raise his reputation high — 

His fault redeem. 

So fills it up again once more. 

With cooler caution than before. 

So fast he 's learned the hatching lore 

By steady pains, 
With cheerful heart is counting o'er 

Prospective gains. 
io8 



Now many a day has come and passed - 
He hopes that each may be the last — 
His weary spirits overcast 

With brooding care. 
That chicks may come in numbers vast, 

Is now his prayer. 

'Twas on a starless Sunday night — 
His eyes grow dull and lose their sight, 
For sleep locks up his senses quite. 

In calm repose. 
Then sound he sleeps till morning light 

In grandeur rose. 

When lo! his fire had long been out. 
His chicks all cold, and dead, no doubt, 
His gilded hopes lay spread about. 

His eyes were dazed, 
To see his prospects put to rout — 

With grief was crazed. 

But courage rises once again; 
His credit he will sure maintain; 
Of hardships he will ne'er complain, 

But bide his time — 
When chicks and golden eagles reign 

In might sublime, 
log 



His incubator's lengthy legs 

He 's amputated — left nought but pegs 

For time and patience only begs. 

He'll do the rest. 
Again the country scours for eggs 

To fill his nest. 



Then in the kitchen corner warm, 

A place secure from every harm, 

The third attempt he thinks the "charm." 

He'll make no blunder. 
Success is certain — feels no alarm, 

With lamp set under. 

The lamp will do the work so kind, 
While he can rest in peace of mind. 
With all his care to it consigned — 

From watching free; 
And thinks the world has been too blind 

The thing to see. 

Each night secures him sweet repose. 
While onward still his hatching goes. 
He 's reckless now of friends or foes, 

This young Aladdin! 
His lamp vast treasures will disclose 

The thought he's glad in. 
no 



x\t midnight's hour when all were sleeping, 
The mist was up the valley creeping, 
And Harold dreamed of biddies peeping. 

'Twas music sweet, 
While angels' wings in tune were keeping, 

All done complete. 

A loud explosion then was heard. 

Foundation walls were deeply stirred. 

While waking eyes with smoke were blurred. 

Confusion reigned. 
No one conceived what had occurred 

Could be explained. 

Until they reached the kitchen room. 
No one could sure the cause presume. 
When hght at once flashed through the gloom. 

O scene, most dire! 
Th' exploded lamp has wrought their doom — 

The house on -fire. 

The incubator 's on its side. 

The eggs are broke and scattered wide. 

While o'er the ruins flames preside. 

O wretched state! 
Of hatching now he's satisfied — 
Behold his fate! 
May 12, 1881. 



THE PIONEER 

Read at an "Old Settlers' Meeting" at 
Kankakee, III., June, 30, 1881. 

Upon the past once more we gaze — 

Live o'er again those early days 

When work seemed hoHer far than praise. 

All hearts were hght; 
Although our feet trod rugged ways, 

The world seemed bright. 

Throughout those years of earnest toil, 
'Mid bog and fen, where serpents coil. 
The goal was reached through ceaseless moil. 

With nerves of steel. 
No hardships could our purpose foil, 

But strength reveal. 

The wilderness so deep and grand, 
Where giant trees like sentries stand. 
As guarding well their native land. 

There was our home. 
We raised our flag and took command. 

No more to roam. 

The red man's lodge was on the hill — 
His tomahawk was bloody still. 
With vengeful hate he sought to kill 

The pioneer. 
Unerring was his savage skill — 

He knew no fear! 

112 



In solitude he loved to dwell, 

Where bow and arrow served him well. 

The bison in the rocky dell 

Was his delight. 
Oft 'neath those flint-head shafts he fell, 

Struck down in flight. 

The wolf's fierce howl was heard around, 
The panther's scream, too, did resound. 
And oft the rattlesnake was found, 

With venom rife. 
The deer's lithe form sped o'er the ground, 

Nor sought for strife. 

Our cabins rude were built of logs, 
That sheltered us from rains and fogs. 
Our cows drove home by shepherd dogs. 

Then corralled fast, 
While through the wild woods roamed our hogs 

In search of mast. 

Our days in cheerful labor flew. 
Our neighbors scarce, but ever true. 
Proud fashion's sway we never knew. 

Nor cared for ''style" 
From nature simple pleasures drew. 

Content the while. 

"3 



I 



The pioneer must break the way 
For those who come prepared to stay, 
And reap the harvests sown for aye. 

With care and toil 
He ushers in a brighter day 

But gets no spoil. 

He treads the trackless forest o'er, 
Where beasts of prey terrific roar, 
But opens wide the shining door. 

To light the way, 
By cold and hunger pressed full sore 

For many a day. 

He fells with might the sturdy trees, 
But rears no mansions fair as this. 
He knows not luxury, wealth, or ease, 

In homespun dressed. 
And has no fancies fine to please. 

Of peace possessed. 

He builds the highways o'er the plain, 
And plants what others sure must gain 
Who follow closely on amain, 

A numerous throng. 
With pianoforte and organ strain. 

And vocal song! 
114 



The wilderness blooms like the rose 
Beneath his sturdy, stalwart blows, 
And fruits spring forth where'er he goes, 

Abounding much; 
The land with milk and honey flows 

Beneath his touch. 

The prairie smiles beneath his tread; 
A golden harvest bows its head; 
The joyous shouts of children spread 

Wide o'er the plain. 
While milHons look to him for bread, 

Nor look in vain. 

The schoolhouse, too, he builds with care 
The temple where is offered prayer — 
Unnumbered burdens doth he bear 

For good of all. 
With whom few blessings he doth share. 

Ere comes his call. 

He lives to break the stubborn sod, 
Then sinks beneath the silent clod. 
His spirit now resigned to God, 

And finds his rest, 
While others walk where he hath trod. 

By his labor blest. 
June 29, 1881. 

115 



JULY 

The flaming torch of the sun now flies 
With a fervid glow thro' the summer skies. 
His height is reached these July days, 
And the earth is parched with fiercest rays. 
The grass is withered, the corn leaves rolled, 
And the bearded grain he's turned to gold. 

The murmuring brook is singing low; 
Its limpid waters faintly flow. 
The song-bird seeks the deepest shade, 
Where silence reigns within the glade. 
The kine, now standing in the pool, 
Are resting thus so calm and cool. 

Her sister, June, with roses bright 
Has filled our souls with pure delight, 
And August now, with stately mien. 
Must soon close up the summer scene. 
This ardent heat, like a tropic clime. 
Will ripen fruits for the Autumn time. 
July 15, 1881. 



116 



HE RESTS IN THE MANSIONS 
OF PEACE 

His spirit pure to mansions fair hath flown — 

Life crowned with honors, few have ever known. 

He Hved with joy, his fellow-man to bless, 

But murmured not, when came his dire distress. 

No plaint was heard, not e'en'gainst him who sent 

The fatal ball with fiendish, dark intent 

His book of life, thus rudely blurred and torn, — 

No fairer page did human life adorn! 

The world of angels hovered near his soul 

While all around supernal beauties roll! 

Then anthems sweet from many voices rise 

That swell and roll along the golden skies, 

A welcome warm from those who rest above, 

To him whose heart went out to all in love. 

Thou hadst reached the summit of mortal Hfe, 

Won the laurel crown amid the fiercest strife — 

A nation's hopes were then in darkness set — 

A nation's eyes with weeping long were wet ! 

But from toils and struggles thou hast found release 

And gone to thy rest in the mansions of peace. 

October 5, 1881. 



117 



MORNING 

Once more the rosy Morn appears 
And smiles the landscape o'er, 

And Darkness seeks his caves again 
Far on the Stygian shore. 

The dancing golden beams of Morn, 

With joy for every heart. 
Awake the world with gentlest touch — 

Bid death-Uke sleep depart. 

She breaks the mystic spell of dreams, 
Enchantment weird and wild; 

Then reigns in glory over all, 
With radiance sweet and mild. 

She brings us from the hills of peace 
Glad zephyrs fresh and sweet 

And bids the warblers of the wood 
Their matin strains repeat. 

The glowing eastern sky she paints 

With rainbow tinted dyes, 
Then tips the mountain tops with gold. 

As o'er the vale she flies! 

These glories of the rising morn 
That gild the mountain's brow, 

Sink softly o'er the smihng plains 
And floods the valleys now. 
ii8 



The King of day then mounts the sky 
And from his palace bright, 

Sends smiling gladness o'er the earth 
On wavy beams of light, 

To kiss with joy the opening flower 
And bathe the leaflet's face. 

Just risen from the lap of Night 
In all its tender grace. 

And to the maidens hope is brought, 

A thrill of sweetest joy, 
And from the face of Anguish swept 

Dark shades that would destroy. 

The sons of toil step forth again 

Their labors to pursue, 
And cheerily with ringing voice 

Their matin songs renew. 
December i8, 1881. 



TO FANNIE ON HER FIFTEENTH 
BIRTHDAY 

Maiden of the dark brown eyes 
In whose depths a fountain Hes, 
In whose heart is light and song, 
Yet undimmed by guile or wrong — 
Tripping o'er the grassy lawn 
119 



In the joy of life's young dawn 
Singing at thy work, or play, 
Merry, merry, all the day, 
Voice as clear as silver bell, 
Ringing sweetly joys to tell. 
Laughter like the chords of sound 
Breaking wildly all around, 
Sunshine streaming soft and fair 
Through thy wavy ringlets there. 
Music do thy footsteps bring. 
Dancing while the fairies sing. 
While thy soul 's as light and free 
As the breezes o'er the lea, 
And thy thoughts of pure delight 
Sweetened by thy dreams at night. 
Active as the fawn that plays 
Round its dam on summer days. 
To the garden, back again. 
Then a-rambling down the lane. 
Through the house and up the stair. 
Hither, thither, everywhere. 
With thy fingers on the keys — 
Music made thy ear to please — 
Singing some familiar tune. 
Morn beguiling into noon! 
Seated on thy pony's back. 
Riding down the beaten track. 
In thy hand thy riding whip 

120 



With its ruddy silken tip, 
In thy lap thy little dog 
Perched as comic as a frog. 
Girl and pony, oh how gay — 
"Little Dick"— to point the way 
Seated upright in thy lap, 
He's a cunning Kttle chap! 
Then returning with a bound, 
Soon thy feet are on the ground. 
Running up the walk so gay. 
Light of heart at work or play. 
Sparkling joy is in thy eye. 
Overhead thy cloudless sky. 
Thus the days of thy young life 
Kjiow not yet the coming strife 
With its turmoil and its care. 
Breaking on thy vision fair, 
Which with leaden weight may fall 
Soon or late upon us all. 
Let us hope that coming years 
May not dim thine eyes with tears. 
And the sunshine now that glows 
Light thy pathway to its close; 
That thy bright and joyous soul 
Ne'er forget its self-control, 
And that Fortune's radiant smile 
Ne'er thy trusting heart beguile. 
And remember in thy youth, 

121 



Beauty's soul is love and truth. 
Life has pitfalls, hfe has snares, 
Passions lurking unawares. 
O'er the pathway thou must tread 
Many feet before have bled, 
And the joy that Hghts thy heart 
Like a shadow may depart. 
But engrave upon thy mind, 
Hope and Goodness when combined 
Must sustain the small and great. 
Giving strength for any fate, 
And what e'er thy lot on earth. 
Let good actions speak thy worth. 
Words of kindness have for all. 
Ne'er neglecting great or small. 
Keep thy spirit pure and free. 
So life's joys abide with thee. 
And thy life a fragrance lend, 
Ever grateful to thy friend. 
April II, 1882. 



122 



"THE WILDERNESS SHALL BLOSSOM 
AS THE ROSE" 

Read before the Kankakee Horticultural Society, June lo, 
1882, at Manteno, 111. 

When Time had plumed his starry wings in flight 
And man stepped forth a child of mortal birth, 
And o'er his pathway dawned the coming light, 
Primeval forests spread wide o'er the earth. 
Ere thought and reason first began 
To aid the feeble strength of man. 

Wide spaces spread far o'er the trackless way, 
All nature seemed a wild and tangled waste 
That never learned to know man's gentle sway, 
Nor felt the genial power of cultured taste. 

When savage Hfe ruled round the world. 
And darkness grim his flag unfurled. 

This early day was shrouded thick in gloom, 
The mind of man was not unfolded yet 
The world a wilderness, without the bloom 
That now in glory on her brow doth set. 
The Sun of Wisdom shed no ray. 
To light the dark and rugged sway. 

The curse of ignorance, Hke a giant strong, 
Still held the earth beneath its cruel sway 
The savage sought the winding stream along. 
His daily food, fierce as a beast of prey. 

Nor ever dreamed, amid the strife. 

The dawning of a higher Hfe. 

123 



The beast that roamed the darksome forest o'er, 
Was heard at eveniny howHng in his rage; 
The hissing serpent crawled along the shore 
'Mid dire alarms, in this primeval age; 

Man dwelt within the darksome cave, 
'Twas first his home, and then his grave. 

He sought his food amid the tangled wood. 
The wild fruit, and the roots and bark of trees, 
Or lay and slept amid the solitude. 
When hunger pressed not on his life of ease; 
And clad in skins, to shield his frame 
From biting blasts, when winter came. 

Thus human life lay wasting 'neath the shade, 
Its vital forces fettered fast in chains. 
No ray of light the somber scene displayed. 
While densest darkness o'er his empire reigns 
With undisputed ruthlesss way, 
That filled the earth with dire dismay. 

But then a brighter day shed forth its light. 
When two bright angels from the realms above. 
Descending, clad in robes of snowy white, 
And radiant faces, beaming bright with love. 
Who came to lift his pall of gloom. 
And wreathe the earth with sweetest bloom. 
124 



For long the world had groaned beneath the load, 
ReUef was come, descending from the skies; 
The genial light of hope, on all bestowed. 
Had come to aid man's feeble powers to rise. 
To teach a lesson grand and good. 
And bless him in his solitude. 

The angel. Thought, here smiled upon the scene. 
And man awoke, now conscious of his power. 
And read his destiny with joy serene. 
That gave him hope and courage, from that hour 
Rejoicing in this rising sun. 
His upward flight was now begun. 

In each tiny blade of grass he then beheld 
A prophecy of blessings yet to come, 
And gazing backward, by his thought impelled. 
He marveled much to see himself so dumb. 
And firm resolved to seek the Hght, 
And leave for aye the gloom of night. 

And thus to feeble man the angel bore 
Full many a gem of thought of priceless worth. 
Bestowing gladly from his bounteous store 
That he might bless with joy the teeming earth, 
And beautify with cultured taste 
A wilderness, so wild and waste. 
125 



And soon man learned, by thought, to know the right, 
Discerning aptly, principles and laws 
Here peered into the constellations bright. 
And sought to trake effects, backward to their cause 
The torch of knowledge flaming clear, 
By which all objects plain appear. 

Fine theories of life did then evolve 
Imposing castles reared their crests on high. 
On plans of progress grand did quick resolve 
That soon would lift him to the very sky. 

And place him on the mountain height, 
Beneath the streaming rays of light. 

Utopian views of Hfe had dawned at last, 
And golden light was streaming through his soul 
And ever upward now his gaze was cast 
With joy, at length to reach his destined goal 
And dwell in grandeur's bowers of ease 
Where every prospect bright should please. 

In thought, alone, this progress had he made, 
As when a child first grasps the scope of life, 
While all things seem to wear a rosy shade 
Not knowing yet its turmoil and its strife. 
But rears its castles high in air. 
Mere baseless phantoms, bright and fair! 
126 



Then came the angel, Labor, sweet and glad, 

Uniting with the angel. Thought, his power. 
When 'neath their magic touch the earth was clad 
In robes surpassing Eden's fabled bower, 
And every aspiration grand 
Leaped forth to bless, at their command. 

Then all the hopeful schemes that Thought 
had planned. 
Their wealth of art and grandeur quick disclose 
And Happiness came smihng o'er the land: 
"The wilderness doth blossom as the rose!" 
When thought and labor thus combine, 
The earth seems graced with fruits divine. 
May 17, 1882. 



THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD 

'Twas on a mild mid-summer day, 
While driving o'er the new-mown hay, 
Proud seated on my mower grand, 
The pride of all the meadow land, 

An implement that in its wrath 
Sweeps everything within its path. 
The grass falls prone upon the sod, 
The sweetest flowers before it nod, 
127 



And like the fabled scythe of Time 

It levels all with might sublime, 

Or like the blighting hand of Death, 

That nothing spares, with Ufe or breath. 

And often thus do things of Hfe 
Come sharp against this keen-edged knife. 
And then the fragments there are found 
Wide scattered o'er the stubble ground. 

Sometimes a snake with head reared high, 
With bold defiance comes too nigh. 
Then there the pieces writhing lay 
Now mingled with the new-mown hay. 

Sometimes a frog's gigantic bound 
Quick brings him where the knives are found, 
And then perhaps one leg is gone. 
Or none are left to stand upon. 

The rabbit too, so shy and wild, 
Is oftimes by the scythe beguiled. 
And then perhaps his ears are nipped, 
Or all his legs are quickly clipped. 

A sad mishap this day occurred — 
The victim was a Httle bird; 
It was a bhthesome, tiny thing 
That seldom soared high on the wing. 
128 



A little brown bird of the ground 
That in the meadow lands abound; 
So humble and so modest she 
That near the earth she chose to be. 

She lighted just before the scythe, 
Then soon in anguish deep did writhe, 
For severed were her legs and wings. 
The saddest of all earthly things! 

I lifted up the hapless bird, 
And in my hand she never stirred. 
But looked at me with eyes so mild 
Just like a helpless little child. 

And then I said — "Thou tiny creature 
So dehcate in form and feature. 
Thy Hfe so pure and free from hate 
How sad and bitter is thy fate! 

At dawn of day thy song did'st raise 
Unto the All-Wise in thy praise, 
And when the evening dews were faUing, 
In sweetest tones thy mate was calling. 

Thy brood were round thee in their joy. 
All lived in peace without alloy. 
And everyday the rising sun, 
Smiled when thy matin lays were done. 
I2g 



And every evening free from care 
Thy loving brood v^ere gathered there 
Thy family home v^as safe and v^arm, 
Secure from every sweeping storm. 

Thy birdhngs, fairest ever seen, 
Are scattered o'er the meadows green. 
Thy downy nest to shreds is torn, 
The fragments on the breezes borne; 

And near-by sits thy mourning mate, 
Bewailing thy untimely fate, 
And dreaming o'er the joyous past, 
Too pure and high, on earth to last. 

Thy fragile form so bright and pure 
The sickle's wrath could not endure. 
As helpless in my hand doth lie 
I see that soon thou sure must die." 

I placed her on the grass fresh mown, 
And soon her tender life had flown — 
No purer spirit e'er took flight 
Into the glowing realms of light! 
July 30, 1882. 



130 



THE MILK-WHITE MARE OF THE MOUN- 
TAIN. 

When the autumn leaves were brown, 
And the nuts were tumbhng down; 
When the red deer changed his dress 
To a darker loveliness; 
When the maple flamed with gold, 
And a glory round it rolled, 
And the hunter sought his prey 
Where the shadows sport and play; 
When the bison quit the plain, 
And the moose would not remain; 
When the air was cool and clear 
In this autumn of the year, 
Then it was a traveler strayed 
Through the forest's somber shade, 
Where the Rocky Mountains rise 
Till their summits kiss the skies; 
Where a foaming river flows. 
Fed high up by melting snows. 
Rushing on its rocky way. 
On its bosom sparkling spray. 
Now it leaves the traveler's feet 
Riding through it, indiscreet. 
He must reach the other shore. 
There to greet the Sioux once more. 
He can see their lodges there, 
Looming through the smoky air. 

131 



Now his horse must breast the tide, 
Swimming for the other side. 
Soon in safety gains the strand, 
Where the Indian lodges stand; 
Rides along the narrow street. 
But no friendly Sioux doth greet. 
Dark and sullen seem the brave; 
All are silent as the grave. 
None would seem to recognize 
Him that comes without disguise. 
Then he stops a lodge before 
That with skins is covered o'er. 
Not a word has yet been said. 
Waiting there in silent dread, 
Silent he has waited long 
For a greeting from the throng; 
Then a maiden doth appear, 
Asking, "What is wanted here?" 
Standing at his horse's head. 
Not a word the trav'ler said. 
He has come to ask the Sioux 
If they will their trade renew. 
He has merchandise for trade. 
Kept within a strong stockade; 
He has come in friendship's name 
To consult about the same. 
Still he waited to be heard; 
Not an Indian warrior stirred. 
Then again the maiden fair 

132 



Asked him, "What was wanted there?" 

Standing at his horse's head, 

Not a word the trav'ler said; 

Then the Indians came in force, 

Took the trav'ler and his horse; 

In the lodge he told his tale, 

But it naught did him avail. 

For they Hght the council fire. 

Asking Manitou's desire. 

By its last expiring glare 

Then they fix his sentence there. 

Long and grave was their debate 

Ere they settled on his fate. 

When to-morrow's sun doth rise 

They'll prepare the sacrifice. 

Ere the noon-tide hour's return 

They will see his body burn. 

To their Totem then they went, 

Standing just outside the tent. 

He their verdict quick confirms 

In the most decided terms. 

Round his ashes they will dance. 

Thus exulting in advance. 

Then the warriors left the lent. 

When the maiden to him went, 

And in whispers soft she spoke. 

Words that all his being woke. 

Words that breathed to him of good, 

133 



For their tongue he understood. 
He had heard the long debate, 
Understanding well his fate, 
And the language of the maiden 
With the balm of hope was laden. 
In the early twilight dim 
This is what she said to him: 
"When the darkness is profound, 
Then be seated on the ground 
With your back against the tent. 
From without it will be rent. 
When you feel the keen-edged knife. 
Then spring outward for your life. 
Ready saddled for you there 
You will find my milk-white mare. 
Mount and flee, swift as the wind; 
All pursuit she'll leave behind." 
Then the maiden said no more, 
And her face a calmness wore, 
Nor again did look on him. 
Sitting in the twilight dim. 
He sat whistUng on the ground. 
Till the darkness gathered round. 
Then he felt the knife come in 
Cutting through the bison skin; 
And it pierced his neck as well. 
Bloody drops then trickling fell. 
Yet he sat in silence there, 
134 



While the warriors on him glare. 
They are gloating o'er the day; 
He became their easy prey. 
Now the knife has reached the ground; 
Deathlike silence reigns around. 
Then he waits till she is gone, 
Whom his hopes are centered on, 
Springing backward through the rent, 
Quick as Hghtning then he went, 
While the mare on eagle's wings 
In pursuit a thousand brings, 
Men and horses, dogs and guns. 
But the mare the host outruns. 
While the din of musket rattle 
Sounds much like an Indian battle. 
Then he plunges in the river, 
While its waves with bullets quiver, 
But in safety gains the shore, 
When the chase is given o'er. 
And ere morn illumes the glade, 
He has reached the strong stockade. 
Thus the milk-white mare did save 
This bold trader from the grave, 
And the love he owed the maid 
To the milk-white mare was paid. 
For to her he owed his life; 
He must love her as his wife. 
And again when winter snows 



Drifted high where mountains rose, 
Spreading far out o'er the plains, 
Where its glaring whiteness reigns ; 
When the gale in terror screams, 
And the frost locks up the streams; 
When the wolf grows gaunt and poor. 
Searching fiercely ledge and moor; 
When the deer of hunger dies. 
And the eagle quits the skies; 
When the air was cold and clear 
In this winter of the year — 
Then it was the trader goes 
Riding through the glaring snows 
On his lovely milk-white mare. 
Through the bright and frosty air. 
He 's a rider free and bold. 
Never fearing heat or cold. 
While the mountain and the plain 
He 's traversed through snow and ra'n. 
Oft has chased the grizzly bear 
To his Rocky Mountain lair, 
Or has sought the elk and deer 
Through the frosty atmosphere. 
Or the ptarmigan hath shot 
Hiding in some lonely spot; 
And the Indian with dismay 
From this rider fled away. 
For he feared the spirit there 
136 



Moving with the milk-white mare. 
Now a journey he must go 
Riding through the dazzHng snow, 
And the space to travel o'er 
Is full five score miles or more. 
O'er the mountains, through the plains 
Solitude alone here reigns! 
And 'tis northward in his course. 
Daring storms with bUnding force. 
But the morn was clear and bright, 
And the heart was warm and light, 
Traveling ever swiftly on 
Till the morning hours are gone 
And the noontide hour had come, 
While the landscape round was dumb. 
Yet the sun was shining clear, 
And the traveler knew no fear. 
Onward still he keeps his way 
Where the Rocky Mountains lay. 
But just here his practised eye 
Sees a portent in the sky; 
Sees above the mountain crest 
Clouds have gathered in the West, 
Spreading 'round the northern Hne, 
Which reveals a fearful sign. 
Hanging low they yet do lie, 
Still the sun is in the sky. 
But the night is coming fast, 

137 



And he fears the northern blast, 
And must reach some sheUered ground 
Where no glaring snow is found. 
Well he knows this sheltered place, 
And his pathway sure can trace, 
And more swiftly now doth ride. 
Sweeping round the mountain-side. 
But the clouds do higher rise. 
And the sun has left the skies, 
While the fiend from out the North 
In his fury sallies forth; 
On his breath is driving hail 
Sweeping swift before the gale. 
Hoarsely now he wildly shrieks. 
Cutting square the traveler's cheeks — 
And the darkness coming fast. 
Moving with the biting blast. 
But the pathway losing not 
Safely reached the sheltered spot. 
Here at once he did alight 
And prepared to spend the night. 
To his mare some barley feeds, 
Kindly tending to her needs 
Half his blankets gives to her; 
Knows her freedom she'd prefer. 
Gives it fully to her there. 
For he knows his faithful mare. 
She'll not leave him in the storm, 
138 



But protect him from all harm. 

Then his supper of dried meat 

In the darkness he did eat; 

Then with blankets wrapped him round, 

Made his bed upon the ground. 

While the storm is raging still, 

He's protected by the hill, 

And he sleeps in calm repose 

There amid the winter snows. 

Then awakes and hears the storm 

Raging round his prostrate form; 

Slept again, again awoke. 

Yet no morning light had broke. 

Musing long, while still he lay. 

Waiting for the coming day. 

Then his mare, impatient, pressed 

Her foot gently on his breast. 

Thus admonished, then he rose. 

Shaking off the gathering snows. 

Still the darkness reigned around, 

But his faithful mare he found 

Standing near to where he laid. 

When he rose, then quick she neighed. 

Long he 'd waited for the light. 

Long had seemed the dreary night — 

And so strange it now doth seem, 

Could it be some horrid dream? 

By the warning of his mare 

139 



Much he feared some danger there, 
Then he stood and pondered long 
To discern if aught was wrong, 
When the truth flashed through his mind 
Morn had come, but he was bUnd! 
Blind! alone! no human aid 
Nearer than the Strong Stockade! 
Still the storm in fury shrieks 
Round the rough and rocky peaks, 
And the wolf so large and black 
All the day 'd been on his track. 
And it seemed so dreadful, too. 
At the mercy of the Sioux! 
He decided quickly there 
Then to trust his faithful mare. 
And by groping then he found 
Saddle, bridle on the ground; 
Fixing them upon his mare 
Quickly, but with utmost care, 
Then he slowly mounts again. 
To his mare he gives the rein. 
Fifty miles she leads the way 
To the Stockade on that day. 
Bore her master, free from harm, 
Through the driving, howUng storm. 
When she reached the Strong Stockade, 
Then again she sharply neighed. 
And he felt the Stockade there, 
140 



Reaching from his faithful mare. 
Loud he called his servant's name 
Who then quickly to him came, 
And the gates he quick unbarred, 
While he gave him kind regard, 
Placed him safely in his room 
There to rest amid the gloom. 
And the maiden there, it seems, 
Whispers softly in his dreams 
Words of hope so pure and kind, 
While he lays there lone and blind; 
And his faithful milk-white mare 
Ever has his kindest care. 
August 6, 1882. 



THE FISHERMAN'S FRIEND 

[Founded on an incident published in the R. P. Journal] 

Awake, O Maurse of the bounding main! 
My song inspire with a tender strain. 
To sing the praise in a voice divine 
So well deserved by a mean canine. 
A fisherman dwelt by the briny deep. 
Shut in by shores so strong and steep. 
And long he 'd dwelt on the lonely shore 
Where eagles scream and the breakers roar. 
Where sea-gulls hover on airy wing, 
While harsh their notes o'er the billows ring. 
141 



This fisherman lived a lonely life, 
With no relations, children, or wife. 
But yet a most faithful friend had he, 
Who dwelt with him by the bounding sea. 
For ten long years did this faithful friend 
His master's fortune and life defend, 
Shared in his danger, hunger and toil, 
With trust and faith that nothing could foil — 
Ever ready in any disaster 
To give his life for that of his master. 
With undivided Constance and love, 
Pure as the beams that shine from above, 
A trust and faith this spaniel bestowed 
Upon his master, worthy a god. 
Example more worthy, none hath seen. 
A lesson so grand, from a brute so mean! 
He 'd served his master thro' heat and cold. 
But now at length he was growing old, 
While his master's heart had turned to stone. 
So into the sea his friend was thrown; 
Around his neck a cord was applied 
To which a stone was securely tied, 
When quickly he sank beneath the wave, 
His master thought, to a watery grave. 
The stone slipped out, then he rose again, 
Swam for the boat thro' the heaving main. 
But now the master with fell intent. 
With oar in hand on his death is bent. 
142 



Ungrateful monster! his friend to slay, 
Who 's served him faithful many a day. 
He beats him now with his heavy oar, 
Until the water is red with his gore. 
Raising his oar for a final blow, 
The boat he quickly doth overthrow. 
Unable to swim, he's sinking fast 
Beneath the waves of the ocean vast; 
He's sinking down, he can rise no more. 
No aid can come from the distant shore. 
Now hope has fled, and his life must end; 
He's drowning now instead of his friend; 
But his friend can swim, some strength remains- 
The blow intended to dash his brains 
Had missed its aim, and his life is spared. 
And to save his master he's now prepared. 
So diving quickly beneath the wave 
With kind intent his master to save. 
He drew him forth unto life once more. 
And toiled and struggled to reach the shore. 
But weak himself from the loss of blood. 
And struggling long in the heaving flood. 
It was long before he reached the strand. 
With feeble powers at his command. 
At length the spaniel and master found 
Themselves once more on the soUd ground, 
The master saved by his faithful friend. 
Who had basely sought his life to end. 

143 



Ungrateful man with a heart more base, 
Than meanest type of the canine racel 
A lesson learn from thy "faithful Tray" 
And ne'er again from thy manhood stray. 
Oh man! behold in a brute so mean 
The grandest example on earth e'er seen, 
Of sweetest forgiveness ever known. 
Bestowed on one with a heart of stone. 

November 12, 1882. 



THE BEGGAR'S LAST CHRISTMAS 

The beggar sat in his filthy rags 

Beside his cheerless hearth; 
The world had never seemed so dark 

Since the hour that gave him birth. 

Alone he sat in his silent hut, 

He was feeble, gray and old. 
The embers pale were dying out. 

And his heart was growing cold. 

His manhood's strength was spent in toil, 

He earned his daily bread; 
But all the kindred of his youth 

Are numbered with the dead. 
144 



Too feeble now to leave his hut, 

His wonted round to tread 
Among his friends of kind intent 

On whose bounty long he's fed. 

At last he has not strength to rise 

From out his crippled chair; 
His palsied hmbs grow stiff and cold; 

No human aid is there! 

His hovel stands beside a wood 

That skirts the busy town, 
And all day long the snowflakes fall 

In whirHng eddies down. 

'Tis Christmas! and the merry bells 

Are sounding in his ears, 
But no one thinks of the beggar poor 

Whose eyes flow briny tears. 

Grim Night has poured thick darkness round. 

The winds are shrieking loud. 
He faintly sees the glimmering lights 

Where dance the thoughtless crowd; 

The embers on his hearth are dead, 

His heart is beating slow. 
While through each crevice of his hut 

Drifts in the bhnding snow. 

H5 



Here cold and darkness reign supreme 

Around his dying form, 
While 'midst their revel other hearts 

Are beating high and warm 

Forgotten by all human kind 

His wretched Hfe must end. 
O Death! a ''monster" often called, 

Thou art his nearest friend! 

This Christmas night, while joy abounds, 

And all are wild with mirth. 
This squalid beggar in his rags 

Must bid farewell to earth. 

His cup of sorrow now must drop 

From out his withered hand, 
No more to drain its bitter dregs — 

He nears the border land! 

A joyous light breaks through his soul, 

A vision bright and clear. 
For now the loved of long ago 

In glory bright appear! 

Behold! his kindred and his friends, 
Have gathered round him there, 

From out their radiant homes above. 
Their love with him to share, 
146 



And just before the spark has fled, 

Awake his inner sight. 
With joy he now beholds them there, 

With faces beaming bright. 

From earth his spirit now is free 
His loving friends doth greet, 

Who sing their songs of welcome here, 
In cadence soft and sweet. 

No Christmas has he ever seen 
So blest with joy and peace 

As this amid his squalor there. 
That gave his soul release. 

Upborne upon the wings of love 
From earth he speeds away. 

To dwell with friends in blissful homes 
Through one long Christmas day. 

December 6, 1882. 



147 



MARCH 

Now bold Winter's reign is broken; 
March brings in the gladsome token. 
Long his fierce and icy breath 
Filled the world with frost and death. 
The flowers perished 'neath his sway, 
While the song-birds fled away. 
Then he bound the brooklets fast 
'Neath his loud, relentless blast, 
And he hid the earth from sight 
'Neath his mantle cold and white. 
And in wild and wanton play 
E'en tried the sun to drive away, 
And made the days so short and drear 
That all our hearts were chilled with fear. 
And then again with aspect bold 
The night prolonged with gloom and cold. 
And shook his hoary locks with anger. 
Deafening all with roar and clangor. 
Then came March with changeful mien 
And quickly closed the wintry scene; 
With his sunshine, wind and rain, 
Loosed the babbling brooks again. 
Sending them with gladsome glee 
On their journey to the sea; 
Called the early birds of song 
Back upon their journey long; 
148 



And the sun, at his commands, 
Hastens back to northern lands. 
Nor his charge will e'er resign 
Till he 's crossed the central line, 
And the day in triumph reigns 
O'er the night made fast in chains. 
Wild, O March! thy wanton revel, 
Wild and free thy winds do travel. 
Wild and weird are all thy ways. 
Few there be who speak thy praise. 
Yet in kindness now must say, 
I forgive thy blustering way, 
For thou stand'st in love between 
Stern Winter's rage and Spring's soft green. 
March 26, 1883. 



[49 



THE PEACE OF THE PRAIRIE 

Read before the K. K. K. Co. Hor. Soc'y, May 12, 1883. 

Out from the city's toil and strife, 
Away from its struggling masses there, 

He comes, and brings his fair young wife 
To breathe the peaceful prairie air. 

They quit the city's dust and din, 

Its stifling air — its dens of sin! 

Their home has been the city wide. 
They've ever dwelt beneath its glare. 

But here no longer they'll abide; 
Yet, both are young, and she is fair, 

They leave behind its smoke and dust. 

Its hollow heart — ^its dark distrust. 

And seek a place to build a home. 
Where laughing breezes wander free. 

Far from the city's haunts they roam. 
Where flowers are smiling o'er the lea, 

Where Freedom's breath is on the air, 

And landscapes green are fresh and fair. 

Where 'neath the broad expanse of heaven 
Is spread a teeming virgin soil. 

The grandest gift to him e'er given 
Who bares his arm to useful toil — 

Where healthful breezes sport and play. 

And golden sunshine gilds the day. 
150 



Here from their toil a home upsprings, 
Adorned with sweet and modest grace, 

While in their hearts Contentment sings 
And Peace is smiling o'er the place — 

Where Taste adorns with tree and vine, 

And Hope's bright pinions ever shine. 

Where Summer's heat and Winter's cold 
Are tempered to a just degree — 

Where happiness their hearts enfold. 
And children come, with merry glee. 

Where in the Springtime's balmy days 

Is heard the song-bird's tuneful lays. 

Where all the air is pure and clear. 
And every night brings sweet repose — 

Where smihng morn awakes to cheer. 
And every day with rapture glows — 

While hands are busy — and the mind 

Is free and bUthesome as the wind. 

They till their fields with pride and care. 
While Ceres binds her ripened sheaves. 

Pomona's gifts are treasured there, 

When Autumn sheds her golden leaves. 

While health and hope beam from their eyes. 

As gleams the light from morning skies. 
151 



This man and wife have learned full well 
To prize the beauty of their home, 

Where laughing children come to dwell, 
Nor far away e'er care to roam — 

Were born to dwell amid these joys, 

So fresh and pure to girls and boys. 

This peaceful life they highly prize, 

Where bolts and locks are seldom known, 

A Hfe that 's free from prying eyes. 
And all around they feel their own — 

Where independent thought abounds. 

And Nature's voice so sweet resounds. 

'Tis true that toils their days engage, 
But sweetened by the conscious thought 

That labors all their wants assuage. 
And plenty by his hand is brought — 

That labor gives them hope and health, 

Boons dearer than the city's wealth. 

No dusty street with ceaseless tread. 

Where Crime stalks rampant through the day ; 

Where starving beggars sue for bread 
And Fashion rules with ruthless sway — 

Where idle Folly flaunts in silk 

And babes drink Hquid chalk, for milk. 
152 



Where Traffic's gaze with jealous eye 

Is fixed upon a subject world; 
Who boasts her tribute none deny, 

While o'er all seas her flag 's unfurled 
Where every scheme, though foul or fair, 
Is boldly grasped to swell her share. 

Where scents of gas and garbage rise, 

And trees and plants begrimed with smoke 

Offensive to the taste and eyes, 
That all the finer feelings choke; 

Where sewage taints the cooling draught. 

And every baleful bev'rage quaffed. 

Where gold is sought at any cost, 
And hearts beguiled by Pride's red flame; 

Where honest aims of Hfe are lost. 

And Justice hides her head in shame — 

Where wealth becomes mere gilded show, 

And poverty a wail of woe. 

But here amid home's sweetest charms, 
Far from the city's seething tide, 

They never know its wild alarms 

Nor feel its breath of pompous pride — 

Nor 'mid these scenes has ever yet 

Ebbed back the tide of vain regret. 

153 



Full two decades of life serene 

Have winged their sunny flight away — 

Success stood by with smiling mien, 

While health and wealth have borne full sway ; 

Their children grown to manhood's state, 

Endowed with many a noble trait. 

Sweet converse they with nature hold, 
Which gives their hves a calm content — 

They do not feel they 're growing old, 
Though fifty years of life are spent. 

Nor do they know old age or pains. 

For manhood's vigor still remains. 

But soon old age comes stealing on. 
Yet lightly lays his withered hand — 

The buoyant step at length is gone, 

But life's broad stream flows smooth and 
grand — 

And gliding down through peaceful vales, 

'Neath sunny skies, unswept by gales. 

They rest in peaceful calm content. 
Full conscious of their happy choice. 

That honest hearts with pure intent 
Must e'er with peace and hope rejoice. 

And ever cluster 'round the spot 

Dear mem'ries that are ne'er forgot. 

154 



Thus life's grand aim is here attained, 
Where hope and peace give calm repose, 

Its highest purpose haply gained. 
No shadows darken 'round its close. 

Its eve grown radiant in the glow 

Of grand achievements here below. 
April 25, 1883. 



TO MY FATHER ON ATTAINING HIS 
EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY 

[June 29, 1883.] 

Five years have rolled away — it seems not 

long — 
Since I the Muse invoked to aid my song. 
The song I sung to cheer thy length'ning life. 
Then grown beyond its heat of feverish strife, 
But flowing calmly to that golden shore, 
The goal of all when Time's grand march is o'er! 
'Twas then I sung of childhood's distant years — 
A mother's love that kissed away thy tears. 
Of manhood's strength, and wild ambitious schemes. 
Of perished hopes that vanished with thy dreams. 
Of friends who wait upon the gleaming shore 
Thy coming steps, to walk with them once more. 

Again my Muse in joyous mood appears. 

To sing to thee of Hfe's grand ripening years — 

*55 



The crowning years that on thy head are laid, 
While four score circuits 'round the sun hast made — 
Of triumphs gained o'er life's bewildering ways, 
Ere rest and peace had crowned thy busy days, 
The Indian Summer of life's hot turmoil 
That gives thee rest from long protracted toil. 
Thy useful life its sure reward has brought, 
And "good to all" the aim thou e'er hast sought. 
Long didst thou labor to attain this end, 
Ere thy autumn days came like a smiling friend. 
Full many a change has borne thee on thy way. 
Towards those heights on which thou stand'st 

today — 
Full many a change has passed before thy view. 
Since first thy eyes the smiling landscape knew — 
Full many a change has come to bless the world. 
And many an error down to darkness hurled — 
Full many a star has shone into the night, 
Since first thy eyes beheld the morning light. 
The floating palace, now propelled by steam, 
Was then a wild and unsubstantial dream — 
But now it rides triumphant o'er the wave. 
Affording every comfort heart can crave. 
The rail -way train was then unknown to thee. 
That hke the wind now sweeps from sea to sea. 
Conveying millions with safety and speed, 
And wealth that supphes every human need. 
Telegraphy, not even dreamed of then, 

156 



Has come with joy to bless the sons of men, 
And swifter than an eagle in his flight 
Love's message flies upon the wings of Night — 
While 'round the world and 'neath the ocean wide, 
Man's thoughts speed forth, swift as the light- 
ning's glide — 
Its kinsman, too, the telephone, appears, 
Born into being in thy later years. 
And quick before it flies both Time and Space, 
And distant friends converse as face to face. 
The printing-press, the evangel of the world, 
With banners of peace over all unfurled. 
Is pouring its hght o'er mountain and glen, 
And darkness must flee from the minds of men. 
Thou hast Hved to see an empire great arise, 
With blazoned banners 'neath her azure skies — 
A land of happy homes! where millions dwell. 
Who rise in Freedom's name their joys to tell — 
An empire great in independent thought, 
Where all her sons in Freedom's lore are taught; 
Where aspiring genius finds a welcome home, 
And her temple rears, with its dazzling dome — 
Where the sons of Labor from all foreign lands, 
Find a rich reward for their toiling hands — 
Where potent energies inspire all minds, 
And no glamour of royalty the vision blinds — 
Where the thinking husbandman toils with skill. 
And bountiful harvests his granaries fill. 

157 



And the best of all thou hast lived to see, 
Three million slaves from galling chains set free, 
Whose grateful prayers hke fragrant incense rise 
Up to the portals of the bending skies — 
And Columbia, freed from a burning shame, 
The foulest blot upon her honored name. 
But now her children rise to call her blest — 
Through all her bounds, mankind in peace can 
rest. 

But one decade is woven in life's woof 
Since all thy children slept beneath thy roof. 
All send their greetings now, though far away, 
To cheer thee on thy eightieth natal day. 
Fond words of comfort, and rejoice with thee; 
For few are spared so long upon life's sea. 
And few have stood more nobly in the strife. 
And lived so long a true and honored life. 
Well hast thou earned a name on life's grand roll 
Amid achievements grand that bless the soul. 
A steadfast hope has ever cheered thy heart, 
A purpose firm to ever do thy part. 
Now may thy days be peaceful as the dawn. 
And crowned with bliss, when Time's last ray is 
gone. 
June 4, 1883. 



158 



APRIL SHOWERS 

The spring-time rain comes on apace, 
Like tears on childhood's laughing face- 
Then quick the sun smiles o'er the lea, 
As if to mimic childhood's glee, 
And on the breeze is borne along 
Rich melody from birds of song. 
And zephyrs kiss the laughing brow 
That smiles to meet the sunshine now; 
And violets with modest mien 
Come peeping through the tender green. 
Then clouds and darkness come again, 
And gently falls the April rain. 
When balmy sweetness fills the air 
And buds are opening everywhere, 
And earth is clad in bright array, 
So soon forgets her winter day. 
And morning smiles with gentle grace. 
And evening glows with crimson face. 
And all once more is joy and life. 
For all forget their winter's strife. 
June 21, 1883. 



159 



THE YOUNG MAN IN SEARCH OF AN 
EASY PLACE 

"I want an easy place, with plenty of cash to 

spend, 
With nothing hard to do ; my back 's too tired to 

bend. 
I want an easy-chair, and rest the Hve-long day, 
For I 'm too weary to work, with no desire to play. 

I want no cares of mind where much I '11 have 

to think. 
I 've only strength enough to take my food and 

drink, 
And then to rest and sleep, will take near all my 

time; 
It makes me dreadful weary to write this simple 

rhyme." 

A nice young man with head and hands so 
soft and fair, 
While midway o'er his empty brow parts his flaxen 

hair; 
With silken mustache deeply dyed, and waxed so 

nice and straight; 
In his hand a slender cane he moves with studied 
gait! 

1 60 



He's been to college, studied law, tried his 

hand at trade, 
But never yet has learned to know how a dollar 's 

made. 
His father's money paid for all ; freely was it spent ; 
In all the kinds of business tried has never made 

a cent. 

Studied French, been to Europe, a tourist for 
a year, 

And saw the Queen of England with six-in-hand 
appear — 

Has heard the' Czar of Russia his mighty will pro- 
claim, 

And listened when the Sultan called on Allah's 
name ; 

Boasts loudly of his learning concerning 
ancient Rome, 
Has stood within St. Peter's, beneath her lofty 

dome — 
Has stood upon Gibraltar and sailed o'er many seas, 
Yet has ambition only to hve a life of ease. 

His hands are soft and tender, softer still his 

heart ; 
No courage 'mid the strife to take a manly part — 
Mere drift-wood only; floating down Hfe's busy 

stream. 
Performs no action, save to eat, and sleep, and 

dream. 

i6i 



Of dream of rust, and dust, and cobwebs in 

his brain. 
And thick and sluggish blood, that's creeping through 

each vein, 
Of idleness and sloth, of Time's cold, leaden; wing; 
Of air so dead and thick, no joyous bird doth sing — 

Of waters stagnant, and of sunshine's lessening 

glow. 
Where winds have ceased their motion, and streams 

forget to flow — 
Where gloom and darkness black are brooding like 

a pall. 
And where Decay and Death are reigning over all. 

Awake, inglorious sluggard, from thy dream of 

ease; 
Shake off the vampire thou hast vainly sought to 

please, 
Step forth in manhood's strength, and do thy very 

best. 
And then in noble action thou 'It find the sweetest 

rest. 

Go thou to the sparkling brook, and there a lesson 
learn ! 
Behold its ceaseless flow, with joy at every turn. 
Yes, ever on through sun and shade, its waters 

spring 
To find its ease in action, smiling on everything. 

162 



And there, behold again, the river's widening 
flow — 
As onward to the ocean rejoicing doth it go, 
Ever bearing on its bosom fruits of many a land — 
To scatter richest blessings with a lavish hand! 

Behold the gUttering dew-drop that sparkles on 
the lawn. 
That laughs to meet the sunshine when the shades 

of night are gone, 
Rejoicing when the breezes are swaying to and fro, 
To catch a breath of action ere its hfe must go. 

Then view the mighty sun that rolls the azure 
through. 
Attended by his train that sparkles in heaven's 

blue — 
Sweeping forever onward in their willing course 
Around the mighty orbits with unremitting force. 

And if thou yet art anxious to live in idle ease, 
Go seek some silent cave on some island in the 

seas. 
And enter boldly in where thou 'It ever be alone, 
Far from the bounding waves, where the sun hath 

never shone. 

There lay thee down to rest, where moves no 

breath of air. 
And where thy weary soul will never think of care. 
Where must and rust and silence deep forever 

reign. 
And where the sparkHng sunshine thou 'It never 

see again. 

163 



And there amid the darkness and silence canst 
thou rest, 
Without a ray of hght, or a sound to e'er molest, 
And take thy fill of rest and ease, from labor ever 

free, 
For this moving world has no further use for thee. 



COME 
A Song. 

Come with the light of morning. 
Come when the day is bright — 

Come when the sunset crimson 
Beams on the face of Night. 

Come when the sun is shining. 
Come at the flush of noon — 

Come when the shadows lengthen, 
Come to me, darling, soon! 

Come when the skies are weeping. 
Come when the wild winds sigh — 

Come in the calm that follows — 
Come when my hopes are high. 

Come when the gloom and darkness 

Has gathered over all — 
Come when sorrow and sadness 

Droops over me like a pall, 
164 



For my heart's weary of waiting, 
The hours have leaden wings. 

Come in thy manly bearing, 
And my heart with rapture sings. 

Dearer than light is thy presence. 
Thou art all the world to me — 

Thy absence whelms me in sorrow, 
Thy coming with ecstacy. 

Then come to me in my bower. 
Our souls shall be filled with light. 

The sunshine sweeter and purer. 
The skies more smiUng and bright. 

And life '11 be worth the living, 
Thy soul shall find its rest. 

Now come to thy lover, darling! 
And by her love be blest. 
July 24, 1883. 



[65 



KANKAKEE TIMES 

An Acrostic. 

Keep this copy of the Times, 
Abounding in such merry rhymes! 
None should fail to file it away, 
Keep it safe for another day. 

And peruse it again with care. 
Knowledge is treasured there, 
Every page with wisdom's rays 
Ever shines o'er darkened ways. 

The Editor, our best of friends, 
In love and kindness greeting sends. 
May richest blessings strew his path. 
Every day he struggles hath, 
Striving hard to curb his wrath. 
August lo, 1883. 



166 



THE VOICES OF EVENING 

Come and rest where the woodbine twineth, 
Here with me by the garden wall — 

I'm charmed with the chant of the cricket, 
And the katydid's friendly call. 

The whip-poor-will rests in his bower, 
And his song sounds plaintive and clear! 

And the murmur of many voices 
Falls faint on my listening ear. 

The hum of the village grows fainter, 

As the shadows of evening fall. 
Yet I can hear the dying murmur, 

As I rest by the garden wall. 

Hark! louder now the cricket is crooning, 
We hear his high-keyed swelling note 

Come sounding through the bending branches, 
In rhythmic sweetness does it float. 

And now we hear just in the gloaming 
The rain-bird's low and plaintive call, 

His love song to his mate repeating, 
Clear echoed from the garden wall. 

The voices, too, of happy children 

Still at play in the open air, 
Come floating like the chords of music. 

And soothes away all pain and care, 
167 



And youths who now are homeward turning, 
And whose young hearts are light with peace, 

Join their songs with voices of evening, 
While quiet and darkness increase. 

And the stars are singing together 

In an octave tender and low — 
Now conjoined in nature's grand chorus 

All the chords on the scene to bestow. 

These voices so dear are enchanting. 
The harmony grand and complete. 

While I rest in the bosom of shadows 
In this quiet and rustic retreat. 

And I list to the voice of silence. 

Remembering its gentle control. 
When deep in the depths of my being 

Hear the deathless voice of the soul. 

It blends with the voices of evening 

That waken such perfect delight, 
And opens the fountains of being 

To a calm and beautiful sight. 
September 23, 1883. 



168 



OCTOBER 

October's days are pleasant, 
The fields are clad in brown, 

The forest leaves are golden, 
And nuts are dropping down. 

The air is pure and restful, 
The nights draw on apace — 

The sun has lost his ardor 
And kindly veiled his face. 

And now amid the gloaming 
Is heard a cheerful voice — 

'Tis Autumn's gracious spirit . 
That bids all hearts rejoice. 

It sings of fruitful gardens, 

Of laden orchard trees, 
And smiles on gathered sweetness, 

Stored by the industrious bees. 

It sings of earth's rich treasures, 
Of granaries filled again; 

Of herds of rounded fatlings, 
That grow but to be slain; 

Of vineyards dark and purple, 
That ripened now appear, 

To greet the taste of pleasure 
With Autumn's gracious cheer; 

169 



Of the fullness of the bounty 

Of nature's ample store — 
Of blessings for her children 

Poured 'round them evermore; 

Of hearts that beat responsive 

In Labor's happy homes, 
Rejoicing with the Spirit, 

As round the earth it roams. 
October 25, 1883. 

THE NEW YEAR 

Hail! winged Time, whose flight all fear, 
Behold thy child, the new-born year! 
An infant in its helpless stage. 
Born to thee in thy hoary age. 

Full many a child 's been born to thee 
Since first thy flight o'er the ''shoreless sea," 
But soon they pass beyond thy view 
And still thy ceaseless course pursue. 

Thy child, in twelve months grown and old, 
Will die amid the winter's cold; 
Another then will come to know 
Its parent grim in the ice and snow. 

But none can stay thy age to cheer. 
Or o'er thy grave can shed a tear — 
How much of life they may desire. 
They all must perish ere their sire 
170 



The years may come, the years may go, 
While Time's unceasing stream will flow — 
Each year brings 'round in order due, 
The "process of the suns," to view. 

The old year now has passed away, 
Entombing millions in decay — 
The New Year comes like a smiling morn 
In which new millions will be born. 

Thrice welcome art thou, glad young year. 
Thou ever bringest hope and cheer. 
Thy footsteps in the snow and sleet. 
Come noiseless through the silent street. 

Thy passage round this earthly ball 
Comes 'mid the darkness over all. 
One revolution must be made. 
Ere thou canst rend the veil of shade. 

And when thou gainst the morning light, 
Thou 'It rest not in thy eager flight. 
But ever onward in thy course 
Till thou hast spent thy living force. 

Our hopes spring upward at thy birth; 
We feel thou 'st come to bless the earth. 
For none before had power to bless 
As thou canst now this wilderness. 
171 



Some weary ones thou 'It lay to rest, 
But more with life by thee '11 be blest, 
And all who dwell upon the earth 
Will realize thy priceless worth. 

And when from earth thou must depart, 
Thou'lt leave in every human heart 
The grateful thanks that there abound 
That earth is better than 'twas found. 
December 29, 1883. 



A VISION OF PEACE 

Read before the K.K.K. Valley Hort. Soc. 
June 14, 1884. 

While resting 'neath a shady bower 

Upon a summer's day, 
I felt a sweet and soothing power 

That bore me far away. 

It seemed I floated through the sky. 

As moves a fleecy cloud; 
I felt a restful presence nigh 

With touch of peace endowed. 

And as I passed o'er islands fair 
That gemmed the glittering seas, 

I breathed the richest fragrance there 
Which every sense did please. 
172 



Far o'er the earth I seemed to glide, 

Swift as the breezes fly, 
While near me moved my silent guide 

Who led me through the sky. 

Through seas of ether deep and vast 

He ever led me on, 
'Till visions of the earth had passed, 

The pale moon, too, had gone. 

I did not see his form or face, 

Yet yielded to his will — 
While ever near me kept his place 

My inmost soul to fill. 

It seemed his will was ever mine — 

'Twas pleasure to obey; 
And filled me with a sense divine 

That swept all care away. 

A joyous feehng thrilled my soul — 

To ecstacy allied, 
When yielding up my self-control 

Unto my peaceful guide — 

Ethereal spaces sweeping through. 
Where golden sunbeams play — 

Where everything was lost to view. 
Except the orb of day — 

173 



Until a mountain's brow is seen, 
That gleams with silver Hght — 

Its surface clothed in softest green, 
Far 'round its shining height. 

AHghting on this mountain fair, 
Which seemed as solid ground — 

With joy I breathed the vital air 
And viewed the region 'round. 

My eyes unsealed, I then beheld 
My young and pleasing guide, 

Whose words with loving accents swelled 
While standing by my side. 

A velvet lawn's beneath our feet — 

'Neath trees of gorgeous hue. 
And brilliant flowers with fragrance sweet 

Flashed on my startled view. 

A palace crowned the mountain's height, 

In richest splendors dressed, 
Whose dome was glittering soft and bright. 

While turrets 'round it rest. 

Its garden awed my trembhng soul — 

I wondered and admired, 
And scarce could comprehend the whole. 

So gorgeously attired. 

174 



Like Parian marble pure and white 

With turrets tinted blue, 
Its graceful form attained a height 
Imposing to the view. 

We entered then the palace grand 

Unknown to me before, 
Where people throng from every land 

Its wonders to explore. 

Its halls were gemmed with many a stone 
That glittered like the stars. 
And through its windowed walls there shone 
Rich light in crimson bars. 

Its corridors and arches high 
With towering columns placed — 

Its ceiHngs like the spangled sky 
With curious carvings traced. 

There statues fair with diamond eyes 
That flashed the burnished light — 

While paintings thrilled me with surprise, 
That flamed upon my sight. 

The multitude within were there 

To view the fields of fate. 
Among them were the young and fair, 

The good, the wise, the great. 

175 



The good and wise of every land 

Whose faces radiant grew, 
Now wandered through this palace grand, 

And many it seemed I knew. 

Yes, many a friendly face was there, 

Familiar grown on earth — 
And many, too, surpassing fair, 

Known there of sterling worth. 

With hope and joy their faces glow, 

As on some manifested day; 
Yet me they did not seem to know, 
Nor aught to me would say. 

How strange it was they saw me not. 

When I could plainly see — 
While 'round I saw in every spot, 

None cast their eyes on me. 

My guide directs my onward way; 

His face with goodness shone — 
He seemed as fair as smiHng May — 

Just now to manhood grown. 

He's shown me through these airy halls. 

And wonders wild beheld, 
Where paintings rare adorn the walls — 

And statues fair excelled. 
176 



Then upward to the spacious dome 

We floated free and Hght, 
O'er which is found the ''Vision Room" 

That ghttered fair and bright. 

This "Vision Chamber," entered in — 

A hollow sphere it seems, 
More grand and simple naught hath been, 

Conceived in wildest dreams. 

It seemed a globe of colored glass, 

With colors only four. 
Through which the faint Hght ghmmering passed 

And blended evermore. 

The Eastern side wore a crimson hue; 

The Southern flashed in gold; 
The Western smiled in tinted blue 

The North in purple bold. 

Then three times three before my eyes 
My guide quick passed his hand. 

And bid me gaze on eastern skies 
And o'er a teeming land. 

When lo! a scene divinely fair 

Bursts on my raptured gaze, 
For now the glass seems clear as air — 

Beyond a landscape lays. 
177 



It seemed I gazed a thousand miles 

O'er valley, hill and plain, 
Beheld fair cities bathed in smiles 

And fields of golden grain; 

Where Summer skies are soft and clear, 

And smiling valleys glow — 
In emerald bright the hills appear, 

With laughing streams below. 

Bright homes where happy children play 

Beneath the branching trees. 
And shady walks where lovers stray. 

Or rest in bhssful ease. 

Where trees are bending 'neath their load 

Of ruddy ripening fruit. 
Where gardens fair their wealth bestowed 

Of seed, and stem, and root. 

Where hamlets dot the landscape o'er. 
And mills and factories rise — 

Academies whose tomes of lore, 
Are sought vdth eager eyes. 

Where vessels down the river glide, 

And on their bosoms bear 
Rich merchandise from every side, 

'Neath shining banners there. 
178 



Where lines of steel are gleaming bright, 
And trains outspeed the wind, 

And messages more swift than Hght, 
Make kindred all mankind. 

Where man has learned the arts of peace 

In all their royal worth. 
And generations wise increase 

To bless the teeming earth. 

Then to the south he bid me turn, 

And quickly I obeyed. 
But nothing there could I discern 

Except the golden shade; 

Then three times three with graceful ease, 

He quickly waved his hand 
And bid me gaze o'er Southern seas. 

And on their islands grand. 

When lo! spread out 'neath sunny skies — 

A wild enchanting scene! 
A world of wonders greets my eyes, 

With naught to intervene — 

A sea of glass spread far and wide, 

With islands dotted o'er — 
Gondolas o'er its waters gHde 

Or wait beside the shore; 

179 



And on their decks a joyous throng, 

In gayest colors dressed, 
And as they float all join its song 

Without a care opprest. 

All o'er those happy islands dwell 

A people free from care, 
Where Winter never comes to tell 

Of cold and frosty air. 

Rich fruit forever on the trees, 
While golden Summer reigns — 

A balm forever on the breeze 
From off the spicy plains. 

Embov^ered in groves are mansions fair, 

Th' abodes of sweet content, 
And through the soft ambrosial air 

Melodious strains are sent 

By rare and radiant maidens, who 
Poured forth their souls in song, 

And from the smiling waters drew 
An echo sweet and long. 

I'm dazed, yet thrilled through every part, 

To view a scene so gay. 
Love warms and melts my throbbing heart 

Such glories to survey. 
1 80 



But here I heard my faithful guide 

Say, "Turn toward the West 
And view vast fleets o'er the waters ride 

In snowy plumage dressed." 

But all in vain, naught could I see, 

Except the tinted blue — 
Again his hand just three times three 

Quick passed before my view; 

When lo! an ocean's v/ide expanse 

Appears before my gaze 
O'er which three fleets now quick advance 

Beneath the sun's bright rays. 

It seems ten thousand ships there be, 

All moving to the right. 
Borne by the summer breezes free 

On wings of silv'ry light — 

And long I watched the ships go by. 
And still they come and go — 

Gay streamers from their mastheads fly, 
The sailors sing below. 

The southland breeze still wafts them on, 
The ocean's peaceful breast — 

A scene by weird enchantment drawn. 
In wildest fancy dressed! 
i8i 



I pondered on this charming scene, 

Until the spell was broke 
By him who smiled with passive mien, 

As thus to me he spoke: 

"Now turn thee to the purple North 

And view the magic powers 
Of Beauty, as she wanders forth, 

Now crowned with Summer flowers." 

And then I fixed my eager eyes 

Upon the purple glass, 
But nothing did my sight surprise — 

No light did through it pass. 

Till three times three as quick as thought. 

Again he waved his hand. 
When lo! a charmed spell he'd wrought. 

Far o'er the shining land; 

The earth spread out beneath the light. 
Poured from the beaming sky, 

Was clad in glowing verdure bright. 
Most pleasing to the eye. 

'Twas robed in Beauty's bright attire. 

Of tree and shrub and flower 
With all that art and taste admire. 

Of vine, and leafy bower. 
182 



Here Summer spreads her gentle reign 

Far o'er the frozen North, 
And leads bright visions in her train 

Of flashing beauty forth! 

While all was densely peopled o'er, 

And peaceful as the dawn, 
And Winter's hoarse and sullen roar 

Was now forever gone. 

THE PEWEES OF THE PORCH. 

'Twas in the merry month of May — 
As poets oft are prone to say — 

That to our house the pewee came — 

We knew her voice — she spoke her name. 

The robin and the thrush were here 
With silver notes so soft and clear, 

The blackbird and the lark as well 
Had come with song their joy to tell. 

The turtle-dove with plaintive tone, 
An emblem bright of Love she shone; 

Now won her mate with cooing strains, 
But with her nest took Utile pains. 

The swallow, too, with chatt'ring voice 
Had come to make our hearts rejoice. 

And other birds of sweeter song. 
That to the balmy spring belong. 

183 



Some built their nests in branches high, 
And some in thorny hedge near by, 

And some did build low on the ground, 
The safest place the pewee found. 

'Twas at the head of a column high, 
Inside the porch so snug and dry, 

A cozy place for pewee's nest. 

But ah! a thorn will pierce her breast. 

Her nest was made of moss and lint, 
Four tiny eggs she then laid in 't 

And watched them with a mother's care 
Till four wee birds were breathing there. 

The parents both on tireless wing 
Their daily food now to them bring, 

With joy they sing their sweetest lays, 
A joy that lifts their hearts in praise. 

As when the sky 's serene and clear. 
Sometimes a demon 's lurking near. 

As when man rests in fancied ease. 
Sometimes it is with birds like these. 

At once you say '4t is the cat," 
My Muse just now is hinting at; 

"She chmbed up to the pewee's nest," 
But hold! until you 've heard the rest. 
184 



This happy pair with joy supreme 
Of sorrow dire did Httle dream; 

Of how their darhngs, now so dear, 
Must leave them soon in sorrow here. 

No heartless cat on mischief bent 
Up to this pewee's nest e'er went, 

But robber ants — a countless throng 
Attack them with their forces strong. 

And one by one they thus destroy. 
Till bUghted is the parents' joy; 

As each expires, the mother dear 
Removes it from her nest with fear. 

Their bloody work is now complete. 
And from the scene they soon retreat; 

A happy home they 've laid in waste, 
And from it now they leave in haste. 

The parent birds are left forlorn — 
Are silent in the early morn * 

In sadness now their songs are hushed; 
Their brightest hopes of Ufe are crushed. 

But hope returns on silken wings 
And to their breasts a solace brings: 

Again their wooing is renewed. 
Again appears another brood. 

♦The pewee's favourite time for song is before sunrise. 

185 



Again the robber ants appear 
And rob them of their treasures dear, 

Again in gloom their home is left; 
Their spirits bright of joy bereft. 

Ye hapless innocents so meekl 

Could you in human accents speak; 

A tale you 'd tell of hope's bright sun 
Twice setting ere its course had run. 

Their silent home they now forsake, 
With anguish deep their bosoms quake, 

Their voices, sweet as silver lute. 
Are heard no more — with grief are mute. 

Once more does hope's bright sun arise. 
And love's warm light shines from their eyes. 

With faith subhme their breasts are filled, 
Another nest they seek to build. 

Now in another porch there stands 
Another column which commands 

A view of blooming trees — and vine 
That round its body intertwine. 

Upon its capital — with care — 
Another home they here prepare. 

With promise too that grand success 

Should all their patience crown and bless. 
1 86 



But ah! poor birdies! grief must come 
And smite again your voices dumb, 

For lo! the robbers from the ground 
Have once again your darlings found. 

Their ruthless maws are never sate 

Till every birdling sweet they 've ate — 

The parents dumb with grief and care, 
Now for their sunny home prepare. 

Their day is past — the summer gone, 
The grass is fading on the lawn, 

And coming fast is winter's reign — 
The little pewees can't remain. 

The sad events I here relate, 

Occurred in eighteen-seventy-eight, 

The time employed to pen this line, 
I's April thirty, seventy-nine. 

The pewee 's in the porch once more. 
Its old-time song it now sings o'er; 

A story 's added to its nest, 
A joyous heart is in its breast. 

Four tiny eggs again are there; 

While hope's bright wangs are on the air, 
The sorrows of the past have fled; 

And sunshine bright o'er all is spread. 
187 



Thou happy, hopeful Httle sprite, 
Thou doest always what is right, 

Though others wrong thee deep and sore. 
No vengeance hast thou laid in store. 

But always ready to forgive — 

In sweetest harmony to live 
With eyery being blest with life 

That's wandering through this world of strife. 

Thy sorrows deep are soon forgot, 

Contented ever with thy lot. 
And now we thank thee for thy lays. 

Sweet promise of bright Summer days. 

A lesson to me thou hast taught. 

To wrong no one in deed or thought, 

With conscience clear in peace to rest. 
No burning malice in my breast. 
April 30, 1879. 



THE POETS OF PEOTONE 

(After Horace.) 
Two poets have we in our town, 
Who've raised their names to great renown. 
They're young in years, but old in rhyme, 
And their "machine" is run on time. 
First one does Peg-a-sus bestride, 
And Hke the Hghtning does he ride — 
And then the other mounts the steed, 
And puts the courser to his speed. 
Until the pony 's out of breath — 
In truth! they ride him 'most to death. 
One speaks his little piece in school, 
And puts in rhyme each law and rule, 
Except the ruler of the master. 
And it should follow fast and faster. 
Until this pupil of the Muse 
Should go elsewhere to get his news. 
He boldly "speaks right out in meeting" 
And each by name he gives a greeting — 
And if they 're early, or they 're late 
He notes it down upon his slate. 
Or, if they 're sick, or, if they 're well 
Then here this gossip must he tell. 
"Excelsior" 's his nom de plume^ 
No fitter name could he assume. 
For high in air he makes for Kansas, 
And tells us there of splendid chances — 
189 



Of "hauling hay" and ''seUing corn!" 
Such gems of thought his hnes adorn; 
Then to Chicago by the lake 
His second flight he 's pleased to take, 
And with him, too, he takes the town, 
And on State Street he plants it down. 
Assigns to all their proper stations 
And starts them in their occupations — 
'Tis fancy wild, he 's kind to say. 
That takes him o'er his airy way. 
'Tis true his fancy 's bold and strong — 
Some lines are short and some are long, 
He 's noways nice about his meter — 
His Muse appears — he's quick to greet her, 
But treats her to such common things. 
That soon again she folds her wings 
And leaves him sitting on the ground 
In contemplations most profound. 
"Reflector," is the other's name. 
His verse can walk, although it 's lame. 
Had not the first one waked the town. 
The second ne'er had known renown — 
He writes to tell with smiling face — 
"A fool or poet's in the place," 
And to this town he does belong. 
This theme is followed through his song — 
*^ Reflections^^ of a lofty kind 
Now drop like jewels from his mind — 
190 



His measure starts with number four, 
But ends by adding two feet more, 
And closes with a fond desire 
That both may feel poetic fire — 
And should they meet in foreign land, 
They'd "shake" each other by the hand. 
And now if Shakspeare, Pope, and Burns, 
So sweetly sleeping in their urns, 
Should let their mantles fall on these. 
It greatly would our fancy please 
To have their glory and their fame 
Descend and gild with light our name. 
Had not the Eagle man been kind 
To print for them those strains refined — 
The outside world had never known 
Such poets lived in Peotone. 
And if at this they take offense 
They'll come to me for recompense. 
Or should they choose to criticise, 
It shall not take me by surprise, 
But with good nature read their verse, 
Should it be better or be worse. 
May 3rd, 1879. 



[91 



THE SACRIFICE 

A DECORATION ODE. 
Written for the G. A. R. Post, Watseka, 111. 

When despots desolate the earth, 

And drench its fields with gore — 
And carnage Hke an avalanche 

Is sweeping all before — 
The soldier makes the sacrifice. 

In freedom's sacred name 
He lays his body in the dust 

And reaps eternal fame. 

The trumpet rings — he flies to arms, 

And fearless in the strife. 
Amid the battle's dreadful shock. 

Breathes out his precious life; 
And leaves a boon for those who come 

To stand beside his grave — 
A land whose flag floats over the free. 

Where breathes no trembling slave. 

His sword is resting by his side. 

In peace he slumbers here — 
A hero of immortal birth, 

Born for some brighter sphere. 
We wreathe our laurels for his brow — 

The honored, and the brave, 
Who boldly treads in duty's path. 

Our nation's life to save. 
192 



The glorious banner of the free, 

Is waving o'er the land — 
And may its shining stars and stripes 

Our loyalty command! 
While nations molder and decay, 

And sink to rise no more — 
O may this land so fair and free 

Rich blessings on us pour I 

The blessings bought with dearest price — 

Of treasure and of blood, 
Poured out by an unstinted hand — 

Like waters of the flood. 
Oh! will this country count the cost 

And firmly grasp the prize 
For which our heroes bled and died 

In this great sacrifice? 

We took them from the glory field, 

When Death's remorseless hand 
Was pressed upon their manly brows — 

This truly Spartan band. 
And tenderly did loving hands 

Then wash their stains away, 
And laid them where they're resting now. 

The honored of to-day! 

193 



No fitting recompense is this, 

For deeds of valor wrought — 
Our fallen heroes won the prize 

That all who 've Hved have sought. 
A name, engraved upon the arch 

Of fame's proud temple high. 
Where none can e'er its luster dim — 

'Tis blazoned on the sky! 

And here upon their tombs to-day 

We place our fairest flowers — 
A tribute to their mem'ry bring 

From loving hearts of ours; 
And may their spirits rise above 

Upon the fragrance sweet, 
And rest in glory's shining robes! 

Their work is now complete. 
May 20, 1879. 



194 



SUMMER DAYS 

The summer days, with softest breath 
And faces shining bright with love, 

With fleecy clouds so still and white. 
At anchor in the blue above, 

On silken wings are gliding past, 
Like shadows that are fleeing fast. 

The clover blossoms deck the dale 
And lend their sweetness to the air, 

The breezes waft the rich perfume 
That sweetens all our toil and care. 

The lovely vales are clad in green. 
Reposing calm the hills between. 

The piping of the quail is heard 
Beside the fields of growing corn, 

And sweetly now the pewee sings 
At dawning of the dewy morn. 

The chattering swallow quits her nest 
And skims the sky from east to west. 

The dove is cooing to her mate 

In love's most soft and tender tones 

Upon the pine tree's crested top. 
At rest among the pendent cones. 

The robin with her golden breast 
Is warbUng near her mossy nest. 

195 



The blushing morn whose balmy breath 
Is wafted o'er the meadows sweet, 

Awakens now the pearly drops 

That sparkle when the sun they meet, 

The sun that rises in his pow'r 

To kiss with gladness leaf and flow'r. 

His flaming chariot mounts the sky 
And pours over all his golden Hght, 

Then in the noonday's fervid glow 
His radiance dims our dazzled sight; 

And ever follows in his train 

The ripening fruit and growing grain. 

The bees improve the shining hours 
In storing sweets for coming time. 

When winter's cold and relentless breath 
Shall change to frost this sunny clime, 

The hum of the insects fills the air 
With life and motion everywhere. 

And when behind the gold-topped hills 
The radiant orb sinks in the west, 

We breathe the cool refreshing air 
That gives the weary toiler rest. 

The fire-flies fleck the atmosphere. 
Their torches gleaming soft and clear. 
196 



But summer 's fleeing fast away, 

Her shining wealth must soon depart, 

But ne'er in life should we forget 
The cheerful summer of the heart, 

But live in joyous, sweet content. 

Till life's bright dream of hope is spent. 
July 9th, 1879. 



SEPTEMBER 

Again has come the sweet September, 
Bringing treasures in her train; 

She's bringing joys we'll fain remember 
Till she comes to us again. 

The apple trees with fruit are bending, 
And crimson is the Maiden Blush, 

Its fragrance with the dew is blending 
In the quiet evening's hush. 

The sumac now with torch uplifted, 
Standing where the forest stood, 

Where withered leaves will soon be drifted. 
In the op'nings of the wood. 

The golden rod in brightest yellow 

Waving in the morning air. 
Where nature's voice so soft and mellow 

Tells us of beauty there. 
197 



The rose is gone, its beauty ended, 

But another takes its place, 
For now we feel our loss amended 

By the aster's smiUng face. 

A song now charms us in the gloaming, 

'Tis the cricket's cheerful voice. 
At rest from labor and from roaming — 

Makes the echoes sweet rejoice. 

By the meadow brook so clear. 

Where floods of sunshine soft are streaming 
Through the balmy atmosphere. 

The sunflower's golden lamp is gleaming. 

The grapes in clusters sweet and tender 
Hang in richness from the vine, 

Now ripe and ready to surrender 
Juices for the ruddy wine. 

The corn in serried ranks is standing 

Now, its silken beard is brown. 
The treasure of the world commanding — 

'Tis September's golden crown. 

The pleasures of the mild September, 

Charming in a thousand ways. 
In winter 's gloom we '11 still remember. 

How they passed those balmy days. 
198 



To rest, to muse, perchance to slumber 
In the arbor 'neath the pine. 

Recounting blessings without number 
Coming from a hand divine. 

This fills our lives with golden dreaming, 
Sweeps the clouds of care away. 

The hght of hope is sweetly streaming 
Through this bright September day. 
September 12, 1879. 



THE TWO GIRLS 

The city girl can put on airs, 
But never thinks of household cares; 
Can primp and dress and go to balls. 
Then sleep until her mother calls. 
At noon she rises full of care. 
Scarce able now to comb her hair; 
But lolls upon a lounge all day, 
Too tired to even sing or play, 
But reads a romance soft and weak. 
While pallor paints her hollow cheek. 
But when evening shades appear. 
She drops her novel — with a sneer. 
And paints her cheeks in red and white. 
For her "Adolphus comes to-night," 
And she must dress in grand array, 
199 



To go with him to see the play. 
And then again when morning dawns 
She lays upon her bed and yawns. 
But should she rise and go up town, 
'Tis but to flirt with Jones or Brown. 
She understands just how to waltz, 
Thinks happily she has no faults; 
And when her cousin comes to town. 
She thinks her dressed to play the clown. 
She thinks that cucumbers grow in slices. 
And on great trees grow salt and spices — 
Thinks apples dug from out the ground. 
Potatoes on a bush are found. 
Thinks butter 's made by butter-flies, 
That milk pours down from out the skies, 
Thinks eggs must blossom on the trees, 
And sugar's made by bumblebees 
That oranges are caught in nets, 
While squashes always come in sets, 
That cabbages and turnips, too. 
Were made by artists good and true; 
Thinks all the flowers of the garden 
Are nothing to her ''Dolly Varden," 
Thinks fish swim out upon the land 
Where man can catch them in his hand. 
Must do at all times as she wishes. 
And lets her mother wash the dishes; 
Can't make the bed on which she sleeps, 

200 



But jewels in her ears she keeps, 
A diamond ring upon her finger, 
While curls about her neck do linger. 
This city girl, as you may think, 
Is surely *' Darwin's missing link," 
A useless simp 'ring silly thing, 
Knows little but to play or sing, 
And he that takes her for a wife. 
Must rue it to the end of Hfe. 

How diff' rent is the country lass. 
With eyes as clear as looking-glass. 
With cheeks as ruddy as the rose. 
And teeth as white as faUing snows. 
With steps as hght as playful fawn. 
That nips the grass at early dawn. 
With heart as cheerful as the light. 
Her songs resound from morn till night. 
The song-bird of the leafy wood 
Would sing as sweetly if he could, 
But as it can't it flies away. 
To hide its head in sore dismay. 
At five or six the whole year through 
She rises fresh as morning dew. 
And to her duties with a bound. 
Diffusing sunshine all around. 
Her lessons well were learned at school. 
She reads and thinks and is no fool, 

201 



Can sing and play and dance in style, 
Her modest soul is free from guile, 
Can wash and cook and bake and churn, 
Her living she knows how to earn. 
Can iron and broil and stew and fry. 
Can make good cookies, cake and pie, 
Can weave and sew and knit and spin; 
To milk the cows she thinks no sin. 
If company comes to spend the day 
Receives them in a graceful way, 
And entertains them as she should 
With kind attentions, pure and good. 
She 's sweet and winsome in her ways. 
Her parents' wishes she obeys. 
She 's ever helpful to her mother, 
Is loving to her sister, brother, 
But thinks her father is the best 
Of all found in the fam 'ly nest. 
The dimples in her laughing cheek 
Her modest worth more plainly speak; 
And ever as a running stream, 
Her life is passing like a dream; 
Yet she is thoughtful calm and wise. 
While wit is sparkhng in her eyes. 
A hopeful word she has for all. 
And promptly goes at duty's call. 
And Hves a hfe so pure and sweet 
That angels seem to guide her feet. 
202 



And he that wins her faithful hand 
A loyal heart will e 'er command, 
And while he proudly calls her wife, 
Will lead a happy, joyous life. 
November i8th, 1879. 

THE ANGEL OF THE MANSION 

Amid the summer's fervid glow 
An aged traveller passed along, 

With feeble steps, so tired and slow, 
Unnoticed by the busy throng. 

Oppressed with hunger, thirst and grief, 
His tattered garments old and worn, 

He'd traveled far without relief; 
With thorns his bleeding feet were torn. 

With weight of years his form was bent, 
And sorrow long had been his lot, 

While from his quivering hps there went 
Sad words that never can be forgot. 

Here age and want — an ill matched pair, 
Are wed for life in bond of steel, 

And burdened with a load of care 
That few on earth are made to feel. 
203 



His kindred all had passed away 
And left him lonely and distressed; 

Since then he 'd seen no happy day, 
No night had brought him peaceful rest. 

He once had wealth and health and strength, 

And hope stood smihng by his side, 
But all have fled — and now at length, 

His wife and children all have died. 
* 
A homeless wand'rer, weak and sore, 

He's faint and famished now for food, 
He begs a morsel from each door 

Where e 'er he feels he wont intrude. 

A summer's day is near its close, 
A mansion fair appears in view; 

New hope within his spirit rose 

That he might here his strength renew. 

The landlord of this mansion grand. 

Where want and hunger ne 'er were known, 

Had boundless wealth at his command. 
But had a heart as hard as stone. 

His soul was sordid and debased, 
A gen'rous spark did ne'er impart, 

The love of lucre had effaced 
The noblest feehng of the heart. 
204 



This wand'rer now so faint and sore, 

Approached and humbly asked for bread, 

"A morsel from his ample store, 
Was all he craved," he meekly said. 

The landlord's eyes fierce ire disclose, 
While curses from his Hps do pour, 

As from his feast he then uprose 
And kicked the wand'rer from his door. 

"Begone, you dirty wretch," he cries, 
''With curses on your gray old head, 
Your ragged form I sore despise. 
Come here no more,^^ he hoarsely said. 

With scarcely strength enough to rise. 
While tears flow down his furrowed face. 

To quit this mansion now he tries 
And turns away with feeble pace. 

A fair young girl whose home is here. 

Adopted by this man of hate. 
Had seen the outrage — with a tear, 

Then met the wand'rer at the gate. 

And there with sweetest accents spoke 

Kind words that soothed his bleeding heart, 

A smile then through his anguish broke 
Which gave his hfe-blood slow a start. 

205 



A summer-house was standing near 
To which with gentle hand she led, 

He followed trembling — not with fear, 
And hung upon the words she said. 

Here food and drink by stealth she brought, 
Supphed him all that he required. 

This deed so kind and pure in thought 
By smiling angels was inspired. 

This maiden of the mansion fair. 

Whose hfe had marked but one decade. 

Performed an act of mercy there, 
The goodness of her heart displayed. 

Such deeds must Hve through coming years. 
They form the joys and hope of life. 

They dry the fount of glowing tears 
And give us courage 'mid the strife. 
November 23rd, 1879. 



206 



TO MRS. RICHARD JAQUISH 

(After receiving from her a religious tract) 

Herewith please find the tract I took, 
To me it is a well known book, 

A book I've pondered forty years, 

In which there's nothing new appears, 

I read it o'er that misty day 
Before I'd rode two miles away. 

I thank you for the kind intent, 

For good to me no doubt was meant, 

You thought perhaps upon the whole. 
Its reading might awake the soul 

Of one who's resting 'neath the rod. 
Who's doomed to feel the wrath of God. 

When from this bright and cheerful world 
He's down eternal darkness hurled, 

Without one ray of hope to light 
His soul in that infernal night. 

With fiery demons there below 

Who laugh and mock at endless woe. 

There's nothing plainer now than this, 
'Tis only blood that brings us bliss. 

The blood of what — of bullocks slain ? 
'Twas so when Moses Hved to reign — 

'Twas bloody beeves upon the fire 
That gratified divine desire, 
207 



Appeased His wrath toward wicked men 
And freed them from their sins again, 

That raised them from their low estate, 
And saved them from impending fate — 

Had blood of Jesus ne'er been spilt, 
No man had e'er been freed from guilt, 

God's fiercest anger ever burn, 

His love has fled to ne'er return, 
And left the offspring of His hands 

To perish by his stern commands. 
And while the seasons come and go 

The light of hope no man could know. 

At length God sees this "narrow" path 
By which man might escape His wrath, 

And cool His anger, soothe His hate. 

This "scheme," my Muse will now relate. 

In heaven He has an "only Son," 
"He and his Father both are one." 

Father and Son of equal age, 

His blood will soothe the Father's rage. 
He sends him to His wicked world, 

'Gainst which his vengeance once was hurled 
That Jews might spill his "precious blood," 

A better plan than Noah's flood. 
208 



"To reconcile" the God above, 

And warm again his heart with love, 

'Twas thus the shedding "blood divine" 
By wicked Jews filled God's design; 

And brought to Hght His "wondrous scheme," 
Which like a monster makes Him seem. 

This error of a by gone age 

That darkens o'er the "ancient page" 
Will vanish Hke the shades of night 

When wisdom's sun appears in sight, 
For wisdom is our Savior true 

Instead of blood shed by a Jew. 

Within each soul of human kind 
Is found a spark to hght the mind, 

A spark divine that comes from him 
Who sends to us the Seraphim, 

On errands of his kindest love 

From homes of sweetest joy above. 

Remember then, the law that binds 
In one vast chain all human minds — 

Upholds us all, the low and high. 
Hence all must live, or all must die, 

He best serves God on any "plan," 
Who blesses most his fellow man. 
209 



Then do the right for right's own sake, 
Nor think reward nor prize to take — 

Seize upon truth wherever found, 
On Christian or on heathen ground, 

Among your friends, among your foes, 
The plant ^s divine wherever it grows. 
January 14, 1880. 



210 



THE CHRISTIAN AND HIS GORY GOD 

Jehovah of the ancient Jews 
Rich loving blood did ne'er refuse, 
And in the blood of lambkins white 
His "holy" taste took pure delight — 
His anger flashed down from the skies 
If man refused to sacrifice 
The firstlings of his fatted flock 
And pile them on the altar rocks, 
To smoke and roast in sacred fire — 
And gratify divine desire. 

This "Lord of Hosts," so great in battle. 

Is sated now on blood of cattle. 

And blood of rams now doth despise — 

He wants some greater sacrifice — 

And in his love and mighty power, 

His son's pure blood he would devour. 

His "only son," with equal age. 

His blood must have to soothe his rage 

And reconcile "His holy" hate 

And save us from a "burning fate." 

The Christian like his God so gory. 
This blood must drink though strange the story. 
It gives him love and hfe divine, 
Although he drinks it in the wine; 
And eats his flesh in "holy" bread, 

211 



Although two thousand years he's dead; 

The "heretic" he can't forgive — 

He surely has no right to Uve, 

So spills his blood with rack and chain 

Then drinks his bloody wine again; 

His gory God he follows after, 

His victims' groans he mocks with laughter 

And sends them down to dark despair, 

But thanks his God in ''holy" prayer 

Which gives him unction and quiet divine. 

To drink again more bloody wine. 

Then thanks his God with "holy" grin 

That he's so pure and free from sin. 

February i6, 1880. 



THE RAM AND THE ROBBER. 

The morning sun was glancing down 
As by his well stood farmer Brown 
He's thinking of the bHssful days 
When earth's dull cares shall end in praise 
Where rest and peace he'll find in heaven 
Which to the righteous shall be given 
And stooping down to lift his pail 
He soon bethinks himself a "whale," 
For "Bob" the ram stands not far off 
Quick butts him in the water-trough, 
"Bob" thinks no doubt baptismal rite 



Will "save" him in his happy plight 
So butts him in without delay, 
Nor waits to hear him sing and pray, 
But walks away and leaves him there 
To soak — and finish up with prayer. 
Now when the ram had left the place 
And Brown had felt the power of grace. 
He ventured to his feet once more; 
Though feeling wet and awful sore, 
Then straightway to the house he goes 
While mountain high his anger rose 
He calls his son in voice of thunder 
And says his bones are broke asunder 
While vengeance flashes from his eye, 
He swears that day poor "Bob" shall die 
The son of course, plead for the ram. 
But Brown spoke careless words Hke"damn" 
And swore again by set of sun 
"Bob's" wicked course would sure be run — 
'Twas good for "Bob" that day that Brown 
Must take his wife and drive to town 
On business that would keep him late. 
While household cares were left to Kate, 
Now, Kate's a charming country lass 
Whose mind's as pure and clear as glass 
And when her parents went from home 
Remained right there — nor cared to roam ; 
So innocent and honest-hearted 
213 



To all her kindness she imparted 

Her brothers, raking hay had gone 

While Kate herself was left alone, 

She's busy, busthng, working, singing, 

Here and there her footsteps ringing 

She's cheerful as a little wren, 

Until the clock had just struck ten — 

When suddenly upon the door 

She heard a rap — and nothing more, 

"Come in,^^ says Kate, in childish glee 

Thinking some friend she now would see 

When lo ! a tall, dark man strode in 

With grizzly beard upon his chin 

And in his hand he held his hat 

A faded ''silk" and mashed at that; 

His clothes were black and near worn through, 

While on his feet were a boot and shoe 

His lank and leath'ry form was strait. 

His hair well matted o'er his pate 

His coat was buttoned to his chin 

His lantern- jaws spread twith a grin 

A little lame — his eyes were red ; 

He took a seat, then scratched his head 

And then he spoke — with silly leer 

"My Uttle maid's your mother here ? 

Kate answered in a pleasant way 

"My mother's not at home to-day." 

Your father I would gladly see 

214 



Or brother, dear if that could be." 
The maid again was forced to say 
That ''all were gone from home that day — " 
He sighed, and said, " 'tis getting late 
I fear for them I cannot wait — 
Important business with your pa'r 
To see him now I've traveled far 
And as I cannot wait for dinner 
And feehng hungry as a sinner 
My little maid please set a bite; 
I'll eat and then return to night — '' 
Then Kate a repast for him spread 
On which the hungry traveler fed 
He talked quite glibly now and while eating 
'Bout Gen'ral Grant and others meeting; 
Until five cups of tea were drank 
As each he took the maid he'd thank 
He asked her also many a question — 
He drank his tea to aid digestion; — 
He much admired whate'er could see. 
And praised the spoon that stirred his tea 
Then asked the maid in tender tones 
If mother, dear, had other ones 
And Kate as guileless as could be 
Quick brought the sett for him to see 
She brought the spoons, and then the cup 
Of purest silver all made up. 
He took them in his hand and gazed . 
215 



And while he looked he loudly praised, 

Then stepped up to the window's light 

To there obtain a better sight 

But ah! he said — ^Hhe very ones^^ 

''How fortunate to find the spoons 

My friend so long ago had lost — 

And which he'd bought at heavy cost — " 

Then opes the door and out he sprung 

While Kate's poor heart, wild anguish wrung 

She follows him with tears and cries. 

The robber down the pathway flies 

When all at once "Bob" sees him there 

Goes ba-a ! and butts him plump and square 

The spoons are scattered far and near. 

The robber's trembling now with fear — 

But picks them up in haste again 

"Bob" takes him in the abdomen. 

Away they go all scattered round 

The robber flat upon the ground 

But up he jumps — goes for his booty 

While "Bob" stands there to do his duty; 

Then off he starts, Kate gives a cheer 

"Bob" takes him this time in the rear 

Prostrates the robber on the earth, 

While "Bob" and Kate enjoy the mirth. 

"Bob" does not wait to see him rise 

But gives him one between the eyes; 

The robber's rage now knows no bounds, 

216 



He's sore and bleeding from his wounds, 

He's striking, kicking, everywhere. 

While oaths and curses fill the air. 

The robber's form is thin and lank; 

So *'Bob" now strikes him in the flank. 

And turns him over on his head; 

Then leaves him on the ground for dead. 

But up he comes for one more "round"' 

When quick "Bob" sends him to the ground, 

And takes away his left coat-tail 

Which on his horns serves for a sail. — 

The robber now throws up the sponge 

And for the highway makes a plunge; 

With bloody face and halting gait. 

His mind no doubt in a happy state. 

Now when the dust had blown aside 

Kate ventured up with modest pride 

To view the trophies "Bob" had won. 

And measure what his courage done. 

There on the ground lay spoons and cups 

x\nd tall plug hat about used up, 

The coat skirt with a hole torn through 

And by it lay the robber's shoe. 

When Brown returned again that night 

He heard the story with delight; 

And gave old "Bob" unknown praise, 

Forgiving all his crooked ways. 

February 26, 1880. 

217 



LINES ON GOLDIE BARNARD 

Who passed away Nov. 28, 1899, 

The sun that arose in the morning; 

So golden and briUiant and fair, 
The emblem of a lovely maiden 

So rosy, so radiant and rare, 

Went down in the golden morning; 

Had set before it was noon, 
Like the life of the radiant maiden 

That left us in sorrow so soon. 

While we mourn that life so brilliant 
Should be torn from our love away, 

Yet we know that our love will follow 
To those blissful realms of day. 

Where she rests in ambrosial bowers 
And the sun of her hfe no more 

Will set in untimely darkness 
On that bright celestial shore. 

Where she still remembers the dear ones, 
In her love so tender and true. 

Whom she left so suddenly in sorrow — 
So reluctantly bid them adieu. 

And now to this radiant maiden 
We must say farewell for a time, 

Till we meet her again with the angels 
On those golden heights sublime. 
February 13, 1900. 

218 



THE KING'S REVENGE 

Read before the Kankakee Co. Horticultural Society, May 8, 1880. 

Once there lived a mighty King, 
And he kept his signet ring 
Ever on his index finger; 
That his purpose need not hnger — 
Ring of gold with diamond set, 
And the seal of purest jet; 
While the measure of its power 
Filled his kingdom every hour, 
For this ring the legends say; 
Many kings before that day 
Had received from those before, 
From the ancient days of yore — 
Well they knew the spell it wrought 
O'er the people's simple thought — 
Every King that took the throne 
Knew the ring must be his own; 
And the people wished it so 
Ever since the long ago — 
Every mandate must be sealed 
Ere its purpose was revealed. 
Then the people all obeyed 
For the King was not afraid 
That his subjects e'er would falter 
If his laws he chose to alter, 
But their loyal homage bring 
When he sealed them with his ring. 

:f: H< ^ ){( )ie 

2lg 



Peace and plenty hand in hand; 
Joys were spreading o'er the land — 
When the doctors of the realm 
Sought their sovereign to o'erwhelm, 
And for him they framed a law; 
Strong and perfect — had no flaw, 
Which did bind his people good; 
And prescribed their daily food — 
They should Hve on slaughtered beast 
From the greatest to the least, 
Eat but flesh and blood and brain 
Of the beasts their hands had slain; 
While they made it plain and clear 
Half the fees of every year 
They would pay unto their King, 
Then he sealed it with his ring. 
And his subjects took it kindly 
And obeyed this law as blindly 
As they had the ones before; 
In the ancient days of yore. 
Took for food the flesh of swine, 
Drank the blood of sheep and kine. 
Ate the carcass of the bear 
And the flesh of deer and hare, 
Ate the fishes of the sea 
And the fowls so wild and free 
Until like them they became. 
Wild and fierce or meekly tame; 

220 



Some sit idly "^wasting time, 

Some rush madly into crime, 

Some drink rum and craze the brain, 

Some are struggling fierce with pain. 

Some grow savage as the leopard, 

Some like sheep without a shepherd, 

Some are wild and fleet as deer, 

Some are crouching down in fear. 

Some are grunting like the hog, 

Some are growling like the dog; 

When disease with stealthy tread 

Like a viper reared its head. 

Like a loathsome monster came, 

With tongue of blood and eyes of flame 

Breathing pestilence o'er the earth. 

Stifling voice af joy and mirth — 

CalHng forth a wail of woe 

To freeze the currents in their flow. 

From the legends it appears, 

The doctors flourished many years. 

Hoarded wealth in boundless store. 

Yet were grasping still for more — 

Dwelt in mansions fine and grand. 

Ate the fatness of the land. 

Dressed themselves in silk and satin. 

Made prescriptions deep in Latin, 

And the undertakers too 

Had as much as they could do, 

221 



Victims fell on every side, 
New-made graves were multiplied; 
And in passing down the street 
Half were mourners you would meet. 

But there came another day; 
When they lost their legal prey — 
For long since they ceased to bring 
What they promised to their King; 
Had forgot the pledge they made 
When this selfish plot was laid; 
So the King reversed the rule, 
That had made him such a fool. 
Then the doctors took the meat 
With the sauce of their defeat; 
While the people of the land, 
By their sovereign's just command, 
Took the fruit of tree and vine 
(While the doctors ate the swine — ) 
Ate the bulbs and tubers sweet. 
And their bread from flour of wheat, 
While to fruits they were confined, 
Made wide search for every kind. 
Searched the island of the seas 
For all kinds that grow on trees, 
Added to their bill of fare 
Blushing peach and juicy pear. 
Found the apple and the quince 

222 



Which have flourished ever since, 
And as well the plum and cherry 
And the rich delicious berry, 
Which with cream we love to eat. 
Hiding 'neath the crystals sweet — 
Lol the melon's riche perfume 
In their larder now finds room; 
While the apple of the pine 
Lends its fragrance when they dine. 
And the grape its treasure brings 
Strength and healing in its wings. 
But the wine cup's luring draft 
By them never more is quaffed. 
While they dwell 'neath smiling skies 
Have grown happy, free and wise, 
Ranged the fields of every clime, 
Reared the orange and the lime. 
The pomegranate and the prune 
They discovered very soon. 
While the fig tree and the date 
Had not long for them to wait, 
And the lemon — citron too 
In their gardens quickly grew. 
And the cocoa full of meat. 
Soon they found was good to eat. 
While their happy children played 
'Neath the oUve's peaceful shade. 
And the almond's luscious fruit 
223 



Soon they found their taste would suit, 
While the currant's rosy cheek 
In love's language kind did speak, 
Then they found the chestnut grove, 
Where in autumn children rove, 
And the walnut — dusky brown, 
On the hillside tumbhng down, 
And the filbert's modest grace 
In their favor found a place, 
And the hickory nut as well; 
Lying where it lately fell 
On the grassy carpet green; 
Where the nimble squirrels seen, 
Where the sumac's torches blaze 
In the Indian summer days. 
Wide became their search extended 
And their bill of fare amended. 
Yet from mountain and from plain 
Gathered they all kinds of grain; 
And improved by cultivation. 
Trees and plants from every nation. 
Whence there rose a better taste 
In the place of sloth and waste. 

'Tis a maxim all should heed, 

"We grow Hke that on which we feed.' 

Fruit the King prescribed for diet 
Then his subjects grew more quiet, 
224 



Saw the beautiful in Nature — 
Beauty beamed in every feature, 
Use and beauty blend in one 
From an atom to a sun, 
Now they live in love and peace 
While the joys of life increase; 
And the wings of health outspread 
Play with zephyrs overhead — 
Maid and matron grew more fair, 
Man more noble — crime more rare ; 
While the love of life hath grown 
IJke a balm filled all their zone. 
Cultivation of the soil 
Brought them treasures for their toil, 
While the culture of the mind 
Brought them feelings more refined. 
Reared them dwellings fair to see. 
Placing 'round them vine and tree. 
Adorning them with works of art; 
Which are pleasing to the heart. 
And the reading prose and verse 
Now they've learned removes 'Hhe curse." 
While to learning they're inclined 
Gaining strength and peace of mind. 
They employ their leisure hours 
Training of the fairest flowers — 
Then appears primrose fine 
With the traiHng eglantine, 
225 



And the pansy's modest mien 
In their gardens now is seen, 
And the hardy immortelle, 
When is heard the" tolling bell"— 
Rests within the hand we love 
While the spirit rests above. 
And the orange-blossoms fair 
Were entwined in auburn hair 
When the bridal feast was laid 
And the nuptial vows were made, 
While the tuHp's briUiant flame 
Like a flashing meteor came. 
And the rose the queen of flowers 
Shed its fragrance in their bowers. 
The King was happy — people glad, 
But the doctors woeful mad. 
All their custom they had lost 
Bought their wit at fearful cost. 
And were struggling with the pain 
That in others brought them gain. 

Let custom be the mighty King, 
Fashion's voice the "signet ring," 
Then appears the allegory 
That is hidden in the story, 
Let good fashions once prevail 
Then no evil doth assail — 
Life flows on like a silver stream, 
Pure and free as childhood's dream. 
April 25, 1880. 

226 



A NIGHT IN EARLY SPRING 

The pale faced moon was looking down, 
The stars were twinkling bright, 

The frogs made music in the pond 
To serenade the night. 

The apple buds were swelling fast, 
The grass was fresh and green. 

The dew drops sparkled on the lawn 
Rejoicing o'er the scene. 

The crocus and the hyacinth 
Had bursted forth in bloom. 

The glories of the night to view 
For joy had banished gloom. 

The air was calm, the winds asleep, 

No cloud was in the sky, 
When Peace and Rest twin sisters fair; 

Descended from on high. 

And seated in the lap of night 

They sang a sweet refrain; 
And told how glad they were to come 

And 'bide with us again. 

April 26, 1880. 



227 



THE VICTIM 

In the airy upper regions, 

Gathered fleecy masses white; 
While the Summer's softest breezes 

Danced amid the golden light. 

And they gathered from the southward, 

Floating through a sea of air. 
Floating in frantastic groupings; 

Forming mountains everywhere. 

And the mist that formed these mountains, 
Glowed with softest Hght above; 

While beneath are darker shadings. 
Like the sorrow in our love. 

Calm the summer air is resting. 

Silent are the birds of song; 
Save the quail's familiar whistle. 

Sounding through the hedges long. 

In the stream the kine are standing. 

Swallows twitter overhead; 
While the faithful dog Hes panting — 

Heeding not the stranger's tread. 

The sun beams forth in fitful glances. 
Now he hides his glowing face 

Just behind a snowy mountain; 
Moving slowly in its place. 
228 



Downward through the spaces gleaming 
Shines the bright effulgent sky; 

While the clouds in broken masses 
In a sea of ether lie. 

Who can view this scene of nature 
On a bright mid-summer's day 

And not feel the power of goodness 
Manifest in this display, 

Who can drink from out this fountain, 

Fount of everlasting peace. 
Who can sup from Nature's bounty 

And feel his love increase? 

If there's such a man now living 
Let him hide his head in shame 

And repent in deepest sorrow — 
He's not worthy of the namel 

In a home where peace and plenty 
Hover o'er a dream of bhss, 

Kneels in prayer a lovely maiden, 
On her Hps an angel's kiss. 

She has asked the all-wise Father 

To direct her steps aright, 
When there gleams a flash of lightning 

From the cloud that shone so bright. 

22q 



And the maiden's prayer was answered 
In the thunder's fearful voice; 

While her soul on wings of gladness 
Answers back "Let all rejoice." 

And her spirit pure and lovely 

Rises to a higher sphere 
While she sings a joyous anthem, 

In a voice so sweet and clear. 

She, the world proclaims a victim 

Of a frowning angry God, 
He has sent her through the portal 

Underneath his chastening rod. 

List ye to the voice of reason 
As displayed in Nature's plan — 

Is the God of nature human. 
Crazed with anger like a man? 

Nay, not even a human father 
If his child should ask his will — 

Ask him to direct her footsteps, 
In a rage her blood would spill. 

Harbor not a thought unworthy. 
Of the All-wise and the Good, 

Who upholds the laws of being 
In their righteous plenitude. 
230 



i 



And reflect that boundless wisdom, 
All the worlds must e'er control — 

And that love and goodness ever 
Points the pathway of the soul. 
August lo, 1880. 

I heard the sweetest notes of love 
From many a bhthesome bird 

That flitted through the sprays above, 
By fragrant breezes stirred. 

Here happiness and peace supreme, 

'Neath wisdom's golden ray 
Have ceased to be a baseless dream, 

And ne'er the hopes betray; 

But on each family altar rears 

A flame of sacred Hght, 
And in its glow sad sorrow's tears 

No longer dim the sight. 

While musing thus my guide had raised 

His hand before my brow, 
And said: ''Upon the earth thou'st gazed 

Ten thousand years from now." 

He pressed his hand upon my eyes. 
And darkness reigned around. 

I seemed descending through the skies 
'Mid silence most profound; 
231 



Then next I woke as from a trance; 

'Twas near the close of day. 
My vision seemed a wild romance 
As 'neath my bower I lay. 
March i6, 1884. 

HOW DONALDSON DIED' 

When the Summer skies serene, 

Were the brightest ever seen 
And all the air a balmy sweetness bore, 

And the sunshine streaming through 

All those vaulted depths of blue. 
Was smiling on the stream, the lake and shore. 

While all hearts were glowing warm. 

Fearing no impending storm, 
For gladness smiled upon a joyful throng, 

'Twas Chicago's festal day 

And all sorrow sped away, 
While happy voices rang the streets along. 

And to crown this day so fair, 

One will sail the viewless air. 
'Tis Donaldson, the bravest man alive! 

And one more will thus ascend — 

Grimwood bold his aid will lend, 
On this fair July fifteen, seventy-five. 
232 



They inflate the great balloon 
For its voyage toward the moon, 

And thousands gather to behold the sight — 
Lo! it rises o'er the lake, 
And an eastern course doth take, 

And vanishes amid the realms of light. 

Two intrepid souls are gone, 

Rushing ever swiftly on. 
Forever from the world they've left behind. 

And no more shall mortal eyes 

View these travelers through the skies. 
Who 're riding on the fierce terrific wind. 

And no token e'er shall come 

To their friends now stricken dumb, 
But leaden sorrow settle over all; 

Till a decade's took its flight 

When upon a Winter's night, 
A maiden hears a sad and plaintive call. 

'Tis brave Donaldson appears, 

Saddened by long absent years, 
Who's come at last his story to relate, 

Thus to let his kindred know 

How he perished long ago. 
Who've grieved so long and bitter o'er his fate. 

233 



Yes, he came unto a maiden, 

With his sorrow heavy-laden, 
Unfolding all the terrors of that night. 

Which followed fast the happy day 

When he bravely sailed away, 
Rejoicing through the fields of glowing Ught. 

He had often come before 
To this maiden's humble door. 

Admission though he never had till now, 
Smiling now to hear her speak 
'Twas the boon he came to seek, 

With grateful thanks, salutes her with a bow. 

Then he said: "How kind and good! 

Now my wish is understood. 
I come to you upon the wings of love; 

'Twas for me a joyous hour 

Yielding to the subtle power. 
That swiftly bore me up the lake above. 

Oh! the splendors of that view 
As I pierced the ether through, 

And felt a thrill I never felt before — 
And still higher yet I rose 
Where the rare cold current flows. 

Till passed from view the city, lake, and shore; 

234 



And the clouds were 'neath my feet, 

But I calmly kept my seat, 
And onward, like a comet in its course. 

Through the realms of upper air 

Where no man did ever dare 
To rush with such a wild terrific force. 

Then a darkness like a pall 

Quickly gathered over all, 
The fearful portent flashing on my soul. 

For a moment after came 

Storm so wild it has no name. 
All elements seemed bursting from control. 

The balloon then broke asunder. 

While the basket carried under — 
My friend and all from me were swept away! 

And my body outward jetting — 

Clinging only to the netting. 
To terrors dark I soon became a prey! 

Sometimes clinging on the ball — 

Sometimes swinging under all. 
And swift as gleaming light thro' space was hurled. 

While with fright and terror wild 

With my thoughts on wife and child, 
I felt I'd passed forever from the world. 

23s 



Then the ball was rent in twain — 
All my senses numbed with pain, 

Suspended by a cord my waist around, 
Falling slowly through the air 
Closed my eyes in silent prayer, 

And died, before my body reached the ground. 

Where in swampy land it lay. 

Slowly wasting day by day, 
Ten miles from Lake Superior's northern shore. 

Till at last it vanished quite, 

Gone for aye from mortal sight! 
To mingle with the oozy earth no more. 

Thus I've told you of my flight 

And the terrors of that night. 
That tore me from my loving friends away; 

I no longer can remain 

But will come to you again, 
Rejoicing now for kindness shown today." 

Now at length he's told the truth. 
How he perished in his youth, 
To realize his fondest hopes and dreams. 
And at last his friends will hear 
How he died with none to cheer, 
A victim to his ambitious schemes. 
April lo, 1884. 

236 



TOUNG TALOUNG 

I sing the man who seeks the wide world o'er 
For treasures rich to grace his ample store — 

The wildest wonders seek to find! 
Whose emissaries traverse every clime 
In search of forms and objects most sublime, 

To thus amuse and teach mankind. 

The sweetest warbler came at his command, 
From foreign shores to charm our native land, 

And proud are we to spread her fame, 
She gladly came beneath his guardian care 
And thrilled our souls with melody most rare. 

And luster added to her name. 

He brought at length from Burmah's balmy shore 
An elephant long worshipped there of yore — 

A milk-white Elephantine god I 
He left his sacred halls without regret, 
And crossed the mighty deep, to ne'er forget 

His royal worth on foreign sod. 

His Lordship comes to us attested well. 

By those with whom at home he was wont to dwell, 

Receiving homage night and morn — 
No more will he in morning's early light. 
His devotees behold in raiment bright — 

He's left them sadly and forlorn! 

237 



No more beneath his silken folds outspread, 
Will find repose upon his velvet bed — 

A god itinerant now is he! 
No more his home, or native land will know. 
And for his kin large bitter tears will flow; 

A traveler he's resolved to be. 

Lord White Elephant! from the shining East, 
We make thee welcome here, thou Sacred Beast, 

Like any one, of royal worth; 
Thy master long has sought to bring thee here. 
Thy snowy, smiHng face, his heart will cheer 

As nothing ever did on earth. 

Some strange sights thou 'It see in this Western wild, 
And many men'U gaze upon thy features mild, 

With admiration deep and strong — 
And many noble friends I trust thou 'It find 
To compensate for loved ones left behind. 

Who mourn their absent Toung Taloung. 

Thou art the first White Elephant e'er known 
To cross the rolling deep so far, alone. 

Thus leaving all thy kin behind — 
But boundless love thy master has for thee. 
Who thousands paid to bring thee o'er the sea. 

And none to thee could be more kind. 
238 



Thou'lt be a hero in this Western world, 

Where life is sweet 'neath freedom's flag unfurled, 

And every day pass like a charm; 
Thou'lt travel on the rail around the land, 
With kindest servants always at command. 

And none will deign to do thee harm. 

Majestic Beast! thou art a type of Jove, 
Whom Greece adored deep in the sacred grove, 

Can'st thou too hurl red bolts of fire? 
Mayhap, like Hercules, thou too art able 
With thy huge trunk to cleanse thy master's stable — 

Or, hast thou tuned Apollo's lyre? 

Or hast thou like the great Demosthenes 

Full powers of eloquence, to charm and please. 

Or, canst thou chain with sweetest song? 
I much rejoice thy snowy form to see. 
And would still more if thou would'st speak to me 

And tell thy tale, Great Toung Taloung. 

"I come to you," the Sacred Beast repHes, 
"To breathe your air, and view your deep blue 
skies ; 
For this my soul had long desired; 
It seemed my master's will to bring me here. 
And those who sent me, felt the wish sincere. 
But I it was their hearts inspired 1 
239 



For weary was I of life so grand, 
Bestowed so falsely in my native land 

By wild mistaken devotees, 
And long ago my firm resolve was taken 
And never after was my purpose shaken 

That some day I would cross the seas. 

I'm not a god, as thought by men of old, 
But am an elephant of superior mold. 

Have spent an idle useless life 
In gorgeous halls in gaudy trappings dressed, 
With naught to do, and always tired of rest 

And weak, for want of noble strife. 

I come to tell of Burmah's sunny cHme, 
Of legends curious of the olden time 

To all except myself unknown — 
How, in the hoary ages long ago, 
A Rajah hunting 'mid the mountain snow 

Was lost and left to die alone. 



And ere his soul had took its final flight. 
He prayed in silence to the mountain sprite 

To aid him ere he perished there; 
The spirit heard, and quickly to him came, 
Who led an elephant of snow-white fame 

In kindly answer to his prayer. 
240 



Upon the dying king He blew his breath, 
And thus restored him from the frost of death, 

Then with his trunk he raised him up 
And bore him kindly from the mountain's height, 
Far down into the glowing vales of light — 

Gave water from his trunk to sup. 

Then on a flowery bank he laid him down. 
Where flow'ring shrubs his fragrant couch did 
crown. 
With care he nursed him ten long days — 
And brought him fruits, and watched him day and 

night. 
Till health came smihng o'er features bright. 
Then loud the Rajah spoke his praise. 

The king now mounted on his snow-white back. 
Then through the jungles pointed out the track, 

That safely led him to his home — 
There all my sacred kin have dwelt for aye, 
None ever dared to wander far away 

Until I thus resolved to roam. 

1 came to learn of energy and Hfe 

So strongly marked in all your noble strife, 

Where progress ever leads you on; 
To witness thus the live v/orld's active ways, 
And spend with you the remnant of my days; 

From Burmah's sloth forever gone." 
241 



I listened to him with attentive ear, 

For such a tale was something strange to hear 

From elephant however wise. 
And now, kind reader, you have heard the story, 
Just how the Elephantine Glory, 

Far in the Orient took its rise. 
April 20, 1884. 



GREAT TOUNG TALOUNG 

From Buddah's far-off sunny clime. 

On Burmah's balmy shore. 
There comes to us the Beast Sublime 

Whom Buddliists most adore; 
Brought here by one whose praises ring. 

Through all our native land — 
Who gave us once a bird to sing. 

From Sweden's rocky strand. 

By one who seeks the wide world 'round 

For treasures rich and rare — 
Who now a radiant pearl has found, 

In Toung Taloung, the fair, 
A native of the Orient bright. 

An emblem of the Buddah! 
Who comes in his Imperial Might, 

To sw^ay the multitude. 
242 



They've sworn beneath the Bo-tree's shade, 

To shield thee from all harm, 
While all thy devotees have prayed 

Thy sacred life to charm. 
Hail! Monarch of the Eastern world, 

A royal largesse thou! 
A bomb-shell at the bigot hurled. 

His chains are riven now. 



In thee the East and West unite. 

For this we sing thy praise — 
The Orient rises fair in sight 

To Occidental gaze! 
Through thee we hear the loud acclaim 

Come swelling on the breeze. 
Of countless thousands born to fame. 

Beyond the restless seas. 

No more in sacred halls thou'lt rest. 

Upon thy rich divan, 
But travel and behold the West — 

The mighty world of Man! 
Tt seemed like sacrilege to leave 

Thy loved and ancient home. 
And all thy kindred there to grieve, 

And thus with strangers roam — 

243 



But in the cities of our land, 
Thou'lt meet an eager throngs 

Who'll 'round thee pass in pageant grand 
With greetings loud and long. 

And may thy Majesty Sublime, 

Drink praise as nectar sweet 
And onward through the sands of Time, 

Still move with noiseless feet. 
May 4, 1884. 



TO THE ARTIST WHO PAINTED MY 
PORTRAIT 

Fair lady! thy artistic eye, 

Has scanned my features o'er. 
And caught the lines that hidden lie, 

From mortal gaze before — 

Thy hand obedient to thy will. 

Has touched with tender grace — 
And fixed forever calm and still 
Each lineament of my face. 

The Hghts and shades are blended there. 

As if some master hand. 
Had painted life's expressions rare 

At Nature's own command. 
244 



Thy cherished gift is quite divine, 
And proudly leads to fame, 

Where high and low in praise combine 
To give thee loud acclaim. 

A.nd down the course of coming years 
Fond hearts will turn to thee. 

And eyes be filled with grateful tears 
Thy priceless works to see. 

Thy works of art are chaste and pure 
As childhood's sweetest smile, 

And long as Sun and Time endure 
Will longing eyes beguile, 

Thy genius thus with magic skill 
Embalms our living forms, 

And gives to those remaining still 
Of life its vital charms. 

Thy genius thus inscribes thy name 

In radiant beams of light, 
Upon the gilded scroll of fame 

Immortal, fair and bright! 
September 28, 1884. 



245 



LINES 

TO A VERY DEAR CHILD, LILLIAN DOLE, WHO DIED 
SUDDENLY AT THE AGE OF SIX MONTHS. 

Darling infant, dear and sweet! 
Thy life made our joy complete. 
Little cherub from the skies 
With thy tender sparkling eyes — 
With thy smihng dimpled face 
Full of love and sweetest grace. 
Thou wert precious in our sight 
As the morning's golden light; 
For it seemed thou came to bless 
All our hearts with happiness, 
While the Hght shone from thy eyes 
Radiant as the Summer skies; 
But too soon thou fell asleep 
Resting in that slumber deep, 
Where no waking e'er will come 
To relieve our sorrow dumb, 
But will rest with angels there 
Free from storms of blighting care. 
And a radiant maiden bloom 
In that realm unknown to gloom. 
Where are smiling fadeless flowers 
Shedding fragrance thro' thy bowers, 
There from sorrow ever free. 
Waiting till we come to thee 
To unfold thy joy and love 
In thy radiant home above. 
January 29, 1885. 

246 



THE TOILER'S FRIEND 

The maxim in the Good Book found. 
Is proved but vain and empty sound 
Which says, "That man of woman born 
Is full of trouble, eve and morn" — 
That through the day and through the night 
Pursues him with unyielding spite, 
That from the cradle to the grave 
Has held him as the vilest slave. 
Although his past was dark with grief 
A brighter day has brought relief. 
The bosom of the teeming earth, 
Where man in weakness had his birth 
Was never finished, save in part. 
Until was known the Potter's Art, 
Which gave to man the magic tile 
That half his troubles doth beguile; 
For in the troublous days days of yore 
When all our fields were flooded o'er. 
From April bright, to mild September 
With sadness now we all remember, 
How through the mud and mire we wrought 
While all our toihng went for nought; 
No harvest then our labors blest 
With poverty and debts distressed — 
But since we've learned to under-drain, 
Bright health' and wealth, and peace do reign, 
While all the troubles felt before 
Are past and gone forevermore, 
And Nature smiles with a teeming soil — 
We five to bless this friend oj toil. 
April i8, 1885. 

247 



DICK AND THE MOUSE 

There was an old lady, lived in a big house 
She went up to her chamber, and found a small 

mouse. 
She called to her maid to ''send'' up her dog Dick, 
And shut the stair door, and do both very quick." 
Then the dog chased the mouse to the foot of the 

stair, 
Where he found a safe harbor quite unaware — 
Then the old lady cried out as before 
To her maid in the kitchen, ''to shut every door — " 
Then helter-ter-skelter, through the house they 

both went, 
The mouse for its life, and the dog on the scent. 
The dog he was blind, but the mouse he could see. 
If he didn't find a hole, soon murdered he'd be. 
A door stood ajar, which the maid did not know. 
But the mouse found it out, and through it did go. 
And was hiding 'mong rubbish, securely the while. 
Which caused the old lady serenely to smile. 
Then again it returned to the kitchen's smooth 

floor. 
And helter-ter-skelter it went as before 
'Till a harbor it found 'neath the skirts of the maid, 
Then helter-ter-skelter went she on parade, 
'Till fainting with fright, she fell on her back. 
Though the dog he was bHnd, was close on its 

track, 

248 



And beneath all her skirts, he soon seized his prey, 
But being so blind, he had now lost his way. 
While the maid was as Ump as though she was dead, 
The old lady screamed, and took to her bed; 
But Hfe to the maid returned slowly at last. 
But the dog he was smothered, while the mouse 

he held fast. 
May 5, 1885. 

A SCRUMPTIOUS GIRL 

A man he had a scrumptious girl. 
She weighed three hundred pounds, 

And when in anger she did speak 
You heard terrific sounds. 

She wore huge freckles on her face. 

But never had the * 'blues" — 
She dressed herself in bottle green. 

And number seven shoes. 

Her hair was yellow as the sands 

Upon the river's brim — 
Her appetite was always good, 

And no one called her slim. 

Her eyes were blue as sky of Spring; 

She had a double chin. 
And when the ''fellers" smiled on her 

She answered with a grin. 
249 



She banged her hair with many a bang 
That hung down to her eyes — 

The ''fellers" then got "mashed" on her, 
She looked so wondrous wise. 

A widow woman had a boy; 

His hair was "painted red," 
And that there girl loved that there boy 

'Till she was nearly dead. 

She loved him morning, noon and night. 

And wished him always near 
And dreamed she had him in her arms. 

Which made her feel so queer. 

One day she went into the house, 
Where this widow she did dwell; 

Her wondrous love for the "red head" boy 
She just went there to tell. 

But the widow was on her muscle — 

And she told the boy to skip. 
Then took "tickler" down from off the shelf 

This " scrumptious girl" to whip; 

But the girl she wouldn't be whipped 
And proceeded to "play it alone," 

And "tickler" she broke into smithereens. 
The finest ever was known; 
250 



Then grabbed the widow around the neck 
And lifted her out of her shoes, 

And sat her down on the floor so hard 
She gave her an awful bruise. 

Then after the "red head" boy she put, 
Who was running down the street, 

And soon her arm was 'round his neck, 
And she gave him a hug complete; 

And then she hoisted him onto her hip 
And lugged him off to the squire. 

And then and there was married to him 
In the heat of her desire; 

Then took him home to her father's house, 
Where a wedding feast was spread, 

And every night thereafter then 
She took him to her little bed; 

But the widow mourned her bruised estate, 
And the loss of her "red head" boy. 

But the "Scrumptious girl "is on her taps 
And lives in wedded joy; 

And the other fellers 'round the town 

Concede that he's got a gem," 
But all rejoice in rapture wild 

That she didn't "make a mash" on them. 
December 24, 1885. 

251 



IN COMMEMORATION OF 
GEN. U. S. GRANT 

A hero's gone, and millions mourn 

The exit of departed worth, 
Whose spirit brave from us is borne 

Far from the sick'ning strife of earth. 

The hero of an hundred fields 

Has fallen by the hand of Death — 

To naught but death his courage yields — 
In peace, has drawn his final breath. 

Yet shrined in all the hearts of men 

He liveth still for evermore, 
In mem'ry, ever green as when. 

He marched with Might in days of yore. 

His conquest was the right of Man 
To breathe in Freedom's sacred air. 

And stands approved in Wisdom's plan 
As like a smiling angel fair. 

His friends are as the autumn leaves. 
In Vallombrosa thickly strewn — 

The world's great heart in anguish grieves, 
That he should quit the earth so soon. 

''The Silent Man!" with iron will, 
Whose dauntless courage 'mid the strife. 

Repelled for aye, impending ill, 
And saved a grateful Nation's life. 
252 



His sword is sheathed for evermore — 
His work on earth is now complete. 

He's resting by the winding shore 
Forever 'mid the silence sweet. 

His spirit from supernal heights, 

Now calmly views the scenes of Time, 

And rests amid supreme delights 
Within that realm of life sublime. 
August 2, 1885. 



THE FAIRIES OF SPRING 

Down among the meadows green 
Where the pansies first are seen, 
Where the joyous birds of spring 
In their sweetest accents sing. 
Where is springing tender grass, 
Kissed by Zephyrs as they pass, 
Zephyrs rich with fragrant balm 
From the islands of the palm, 
Come with beauty to endow 
All these smiling valleys now — 
And there's something else they bring, 
'Tis the Fairies of the spring; 
Fairies from those far-off isles 
Come to sport in Spring's sweet smiles 
Where the meadows bright and green 

253 



Are the fairest ever seen — 
Where a brooklet down the vale 
Murmurs low its simple tale, 
And beside it stands a tree 
Where the breezes wander free. 
'Tis a pine with lofty crown, 
Waving branches reaching down 
Where the wanton waters play 
'Neath its shadows on their way. 
Through the branches of the pine, 
Music's moving quite divine; 
Here the balmy air of Spring, 
All its richest treasures bring; 
Every morn at peep of day. 
Fairies round the tree-tops play; 
Every eve at set of sun. 
Round in circles swift they run. 
For the dawning of the light 
Fills them with supreme dehght 
At this season of the year, 
In the northern atmosphere. 
'Tis for aye a glorious boon. 
Far surpassing southern noon — 
And the glow of evening skies 
Is a boon to Fairy eyes. 
Then around the pine tree dance 
Merrily as the shades advance. 
Till the robes of night are on, 
254 



Then the merry dance is done, 
And the httle sprites of air 
To their southern isles repair; 
Here high up upon their mountain, 
Resting 'round the sacred fountain 
Where the waters of the pool 
Are forever sweet and cool, 
For no mortal ever yet 
Foot upon its shores hath set 
Nor hath other living thing, 
Save the Fairies of the Spring; 
Here they rest through shades of night 
Folded in the moonbeams white 
Till the watchman cries of dawn. 
Then they all are up and gone 
To the pine-tree by the stream 
Ere the morning's rosy gleam. 
Where the meadow's smihng face 
In its beauty they can trace; 
Here on topmost leaf is seen. 
Robed in light, their Fairy Queen, 
Where the Fairies form a ring. 
Dancing 'round her while they sing, 
And they leap and dance and play 
At the dawning of the day, 
For 'tis this they came to see. 
From their island in the sea — 
When the sun mounts up the sky, 

255 



To their mountain home they fly, 
Where they spend the shiny hours 
Resting 'neath their rosy bowers, 
Or upon the water sail 
In their tiny barks so frail. 
For these Httle people know 
When to come and when to go. 
And their little barks so Hght, 
Made of silver sunbeams bright. 
Bear them Hghtly o'er the fountain 
In their home upon the mountain. 
Here they spend the night and day. 
Either resting or at play. 
Happy, happy, as can be. 
From the cares of mortals free. 

Jan. 27, 1886. 



"JERRY-GO-NIMBLE" 

Jerry- Go-Nimble was lame of a leg — 
And Sally-Go-Nimble had barely one peg. 

For a very old lady was she. 
And alone they Hved in the strangest land 
Where the roc and the rabbit laid their eggs in 
the sand. 
And the owl kept house for the bee; 
256 



Where the mouse and the mule went together to 

bed, 
And the cow and the cricket heard all that was 
said, 
Then laughed with their eyes full of tears — 
Where the bumble-bee slept on a buffalo's hide. 
And a grasshopper kicked a whale till he died. 
And the geese ate hay with the steers: 

Where the bullfrog danced and the bed-bug sang, 
And the mudturtle's voice through the icebergs 
rang, 

And the woodchucks fell from trees; 
Where the reindeer loud on the Jew's harp played 
While the baboon dropt on his knees and prayed, 

And the toads sailed over the seas. 

This land was the strangest under the sun, 
Where the dog and the duck got married for fun 

And the 'possum saluted the bride — 
Where the sea was so dry, and the land was so 

wet 
That the moon never rose and the sun never set, 

But they both hved there till they died. 
Dec. 15, 1885. 



257 



GONE 

In commemoration of a dear sister who passed from mortal 
life the 3rd of September, 1885. 

Sister! thou hast reached the shore 
Where the Hght is streaming o'er 
Faces glad, f orevermore ; 

Where thy weary feet may stand, 
Resting on the golden strand 
Of that pure, and radiant land; 

Where is heard the welcome song, 
From the glorious angel throng. 
As it rings the shores along: 

Whence our mother came erstwhile. 
From her home on that "blest isle," 
Greeting with angelic smile! 

Then in triumph, through the air 
Bore thee to her home so fair — 
First of all its joys to share! 

Where the fadeless flowers bloom, 
Blessing all with rich perfume — 
All unknown to Winter's gloom ! 

Where amid the splendors rolled 
Wonders, that can ne'er be told. 
Nor long ages e'er unfold. 
258 



But amid those raptures wild, 
Has remembrance of thy child 
Half thy happiness beguiled ? 

Thou hast left thy loved ones lone, 
And their hearts have tender grown 
Weeping round thy marble stone ; 

But from out that realm of bliss. 
Thou wilt often turn to this 
And thy tender infant kiss; 

And unto thy husband dear. 
Thou will come his heart to cheer 
And press back the rising tear. 

And beneath the shades of night, 
He'll behold a vision bright 
Of thine angel form of light: 

Thou hast gone while in thy prime — 
Garnered in the Summer time. 
For that land of life subHme ! 

Where thy shining pathway gleams 
Brighter than the radiant beams 
Of the sweet Elysian dreams ! 

Fain would we have met once more 
Ere thou'dst pressed the mystic shore. 
But for aye, that time is o'er ! 
259 



And we needs must come to thee, 


When from earthly fetters free — 


In the golden time to be ! 


Jan. 8, 1886. 


THE WIDOW^S JOY 


Written for R. P. Journal Dec. 25, 1885. 


The Old Year now was dying fast 


And Christmas day had come at last; 


The morn was bright, the sky was clear 


And all were glad, with best of cheer; 


All, save a widow sad and lone, 


Whose heart was crushed, and dead as stone, 


For Poverty with chilling breath 


Has left her naught to hope but death. 


The struggle now she'll soon give o'er. 


Her trembling Hmbs can do no more — 


Although the day is bright and fair 


Her soul's weighed down with blank despair, 


And as the merry throngs go by 


She views them with a tearful eye, 


For on her hearth the fire is low 


And round her door untrodden snow. 


260 



A wayward son in long years passed 
Had o'er her life a shadow cast, 
But absence long now leaves him dead 
While all her hopes at length have fled: 

The landlord too, which makes her grieve. 
Has told her she must pay or leave. 
And every friend of former years 
Has left her now to grief and tears; 

And as the evening shades advance. 
The merry throng with mirth and dance 
Are whirling through the giddy maze, 
Responsive to the wildest lays: 

The lighted halls with feasts are spread, 
And love's soft flame o'er all is shed — 
And hearts are light, while joy abounds, 
And music breathes its dulcet sounds. 

But 'neath the widow's humble roof. 
Where warmth and comfort stand aloof. 
Lone, shivering by a flickering light. 
She sits forlorn this Christmas night: 

Dark thoughts of death oppress her brain. 
Unbidden oft they come again. 
Until at length with firm resolve, 
Its mysteries that night she'll solve ! 
261 



Abruptly then her blood was stirred, 
For suddenly a rap was heard — 
The door was swung, and in there came 
A well-dressed man of portly frame. 

"My son!" ''My mother !" then was spoken. 
And thus the silence long was broken — 
The widow's arms were round her boy. 
An none that night jelt sweeter joy. 
Dec. 20, 1885. 

MANTENAU 
An Indian Legend. 
On the prairie, flower-laden, 
Once there dwelt an Indian maiden. 
And her lodge was by the side 
Of a river's sweeping tide, 
And its name, of "Kankakee," 
Meant in English, jair to see, 
For its beauty was so rare 
None had seen a stream so fair ! 
Flowing through the prairies grand. 
Stretching wide on every hand — 
And along its winding shore 
Often strayed in days of yore, 
Mantenau, as wild and free 
As the red-bird in the tree — 
Or upon its waters flew 
In her painted birch canoe: 
262 



She was nimble as the roe, 

And as swiftly could she go, 

Over prairie, hill and dale. 

With the hunters on the trail — 

She was sprightly, young and fair, 

And in spirit light as air. 

Troconeco was her lover. 

He could hunt the grouse and plover. 

And with him she oft would go. 

Bearing arrows for his bow — 

Bearing home the smaller game — 

Guarding well his rising fame; 

No other hunter of his tribe. 

It were vain to here describe. 

Troconeco, yet a boy. 

Hunted with the Iroquois — 

Hunted through the forest drear, 

For the turkey and the deer — 

Hunted o'er the prairies wide. 

Yet, was ever at their side. 

And the Iroquois confessed 

Troconeco was the best. 

This young maiden of the wild * 

* It was for this maiden the town of Manteno, in Kankakee 
County, was named — by making a slight change in the accent 
and the orthography, it became Man-te-no, the accent falling 
on the second syllable. While Man-to-nau had the accent 
about equally divided between the first and the third, and 
very slight on the second syllable, the last being pronounced 
as if it was spelled naw. The etimology of the word, as near 
as the writer has been able to gather from the legends, signi- 
fied in the Pottawattomie tongue, " Indian Spirit," or, " Spirit 
of the Indian,*' a sobriquet given to the maiden when she was 
partly grown, owing to her light and airy manners, and phy- 
sique, they thought, resembling a spirit. 

263 



Simply lived, as nature's child, 
And her Hfe to us doth seem 
Like some laughing silver stream, 
That goes dancing down the glade, 
Singing on through sun and shade — 
Through the prairie, kissed by flowers, 
Then beneath low hanging bowers — 
Dashing down the rocky ledges — 
Spreading o'er the grassy sedges, 
SteaHng on in quiet mood 
'Neath the shadows of the wood — 
Hastening now to find the river, 
And then sweeping on forever! 
Here the Pottawatomie reigns, 
O'er these wide and flow'ry plains — 
Fish abundant, in the streams, 
Game to bless, his brightest schemes — 
Corn and fruit for keen desires. 
Wood to build his wigwam fires — 
Springs of water here are found, 
Gushing from the enchanted ground. 
And a "Wonder Land" it seems! 
Far beyond his wildest dreams; 
Here he thought his Manitou, * 
Came and dwelt the summer through, 
And beneath his charmed spell. 
Thus in peace was wont to dwell; — 
But there came an evil hour — 
* Pronounced Man-i-too, meaning "The Great Spirit." 

264 



Came the White Man with his power, 
And by thousands quick did slaughter, 
The Red Man then, with fire-water — 
And the remnant by the river, 
Now must quit their homes forever. 

Troconeco, now a man, 
Grown up, since our tale began — 
On the war path or the chase — 
Form of symmetry and grace, 
Manhood's strength befits him well, 
Brave and true whom none excel — 
On a bright September day. 
O'er the prairies far away. 
Lone he rode in quest of game. 
But not back, that night he came; 
Mantenau feels much alarm. 
Fears to him has come some harm, 
And that night, with sleepless eyes. 
Sees him 'neath the naked skies. 
Unprotected from the rain, 
Moaning in his dreadful pain; — 
At the morning's early dawn. 
On her pony she is gone. 
Searching through the wilderness 
For her lover in distress. 
And by instinct surely led. 
Northward far, she soon had sped. 
Where he lay upon the ground, 

265 



While his pony grazed around: 

Here upon the day before 

As he flew the prairies o'er, 

His pony stumbHng o'er a stone 

On the ground they both were thrown, 

And his leg thus falling under. 

Quick the bone was broke asunder: — 

Mantenau in deep distress, 

Now proceeds his wound to dress. 

And with utmost stretch of thought, 

Quick by love and kindness taught, 

Binds it up, as best she could 

With strips of cloth and splints of wood; 

Then brought water from the creek ; * 

Quenched his thirst and bathed his cheek. 

Then a lodge of boughs she made, 

Placing him beneath its shade, 

Near the stream that murmured by, 

And then homeward swift did fly; 

For her tribe upon that day, 

Westward far must take its way, 

And with friends she fain would go, 

Love and Duty answered, "no." 

For the maid they left a tent. 

Then her mother wept and went! 

While for company there stayed 

* This is supposed to be the stream known now as " Rock 
Creek," and the spot where the accident occurred somewhere 
along the stream, where it flows through the southern part of 
the town of Manteno. 

266 



A young brother with the maid: 
To her lover back she flew, 
Bearing food and blankets, too, 
And each day she brought him there. 
Food of fish, and fowl so rare. 
That a spirit pure she seems, — 
Smiling through his waking dreams. 
While the glance of her bright eyes 
Seemed like sunshine from the skies. 

Now when thirty days were o'er, 
Troconeco well once more — 
On their ponies for the west. 
Eagerly they forward pressed. 
Reached their tribe ere Winter's blast 
Bound the streams in fetters fast; 
And then friends rejoice to see 
Once again the lonely threel 
And a feast was then prepared, 
Which the tribe in gladness shared, 
And ere long the marriage rite. 
Gave the lovers pure dehght — 
Troconeco, made their chief, 
(Death had gave the old rehef), 
Mantenau through many years 
Was their stay through toil and fears 
Troconeco, true and brave! 
From peril oft his tribe did save — 
Reigned a Sachem, all his hfe. 
Ever guided by his wife. 
267 



THE LIGHT OF THE HEARTH-STONE. 

In the primal age when the world was young, 
And the song of the Muse had ne'er been sung, 
And the infant race Hke a weakling brute 
In the voice of manhood had e'er been mute, 
And the murky air was heavy and dense, 
Ere light was spoken by omnipotence — 
In this far-off time, e're the age of stone, 
Before the use of fire to man was known — 
In this early dawn of the morning gray. 
Ere the light of the hearth-stone had shed its ray. 
Was the world so cold and crude and dark 
That it yearned for the hearth-stone's genial spark. 
Then man was a savage, his home was a cave 
The world a dungeon, and dark as the grave — 
When lo! a fire was lit on the hearth-stone bright, 
And the world rejoiced in its placid light. 

The childhood age of the world at length is 

here. 
Its fireside glow gives life its sweetest cheer, 
As a beacon to the sailor 'mid the storm 
It shines into a haven bright and warm. 
As morning to the sailor 'mid the wreck 
Its golden glow the mountain tops does deck — 
As a foregleam to the race shines bright and 

fair — 

268 



i 



As the coming of the Spring-time's softest air — 
As the fondest hope that warms the Hfe of man 
And glows within his heart as only beauty can. 
And the love of life now grows deep and strong, 
As a river that sweeps in grandeur along — 
For the hearth- stone's golden Hght gleams over 

all, 
And joy abides at last in home and hall. 

The student's hopes are gilded by its beam, 
While revehng in ambitious, airy dream. 
And soars to heights unknown to man before 
'Mid lofty realms of scientific lore. 
And in his research delves deep in the earth. 
And brings forth metals rich in golden worth, 
And subtle elements are made to yield 
Their stores of wealth in factory, home, and 

field. 
And all life's burdens thus have lighter grown 
Amid the glow that o'er the hearth is thrown. 

When evening shades the fields have dark- 
ened o'er, 
A toiler's footsteps bring him to his door 
With aching Hmbs, for hard all day he's 

wrought. 
And thus the bread for wife and babes has sought. 
Now through the cold and gloom has hastened 
home 

269 



With saddened heart, for wild his thoughts do 

roam — 
Has struggled fiercely 'mid the drifting snow, 
While cold and fierce the winter blasts do blow, 
And all day long has felt his courage fail. 
For all his efforts seemed of no avail, 
And sick at heart he opes his cottage door 
And steps within his humble home once more. 
The hearth-stone's ruddy glow now greets his 

gaze ; 
His spirits rise upon its cheerful blaze. 
And Hope returns to hft the veil of night 
While sparkling eyes beam on him with delight; 
And home, and wife, and children, neath its glow. 
Become a smiling heaven here below. 

A wanderer leaves his childhood's happy 
home, 
And many years around the world doth roam; 
He sails o'er seas where storms in fury rise 
Till heaven's light is blotted from the skies — 
Or rests on land beneath the sun's fierce glare 
Where beasts of prey howl round their rocky lair. 
Where forked lightnings rend the mountain's 

side, 
And loathsome serpents o'er the ledges sHde — 
Where men, as savage as these beasts of prey, 
Devour each other, slain in wanton fray — 
Or, shipwrecked on some desert island bare 
270 



A victim dire to hunger and despair, 
Where fevers rage and where no helping hand 
Can bathe the lips scorched, as by burning sand, 
Where torrid rays dart from the brazen skies. 
And from the valleys noxious vapors rise — 
Or pines upon the mountain's snowy height 
Where shrieking winds make deaf the ear of 

night — 
Or wanders 'mid Siberia's waste of snow 
Where rivers vast have long forgot to flow — 
Then long years after, gains his native shore 
And seeks his hearth'-stone's cheerful Hght once 

more — 
Foot-sore and weary wandering o'er the world — 
He 's sailed 'neath the flags of all nations 

unfurled. 
Been scorched by heat and pierced by biting cold, 
While waves tumultuous oft beneath him rolled. 
At length on Christmas eve amid the snow 
Beholds once more his hearth's familiar glow, 
And in its light his parents seated there 
With silver locks and features traced with care, 
He steps within, then trembling age departs 
And youthful joy swells all their beating hearts. 
And long that night do youthful spirits flow 
And never yet did the hearth-stone brighter glow. 
And his memory dark of the suffering past 
Now melts away in the glow that is cast. 

271 



A young man leaves his home with all its charms 
To meet the dreadful shock of war's alarms. 
His country calls him from his sweet repose — 
She calls him to repel invading foes — 
He marches forth in manhood's eager might, 
For love of country and for love of right. 
For years his home is on the tented field, 
Where 'mid the strife life oft to death must yield, 
Amid the carnage, where the cannons roar 
To hurl the invader from his native shore. 
To serve his country in a noble strife, 
And for her good lay down his precious life. 
And many a deed of valor did perform 
Of daring bold amid the fearful storm; 
And step by step the soldier rose to fame 
Until the laurel wreathed his honored name. 
From private life he rose without disgrace. 
Until he reached a general's lofty place. 
Then wild acclaim rang o'er a happy land, 
And all rejoiced to follow his command. 
The foe is vanquished, and a nation's praise 
Resounds aloud in many sweet sung lays. 
And as he moves through city, hamlet, town. 
Orations pour to swell his great renown; 
For Peace unfolds her downy wings once more 
And Hope's bright beam extends from shore to 

shore. 
He thus attained the lofty heights supreme 
Of wild ambition's most enchanting dream, 

272 



And on the wave of popular good-will 
His soul is feasted to its utmost fill 
With all the joy and happiness that flows 
To mortal man on sunny heights like those. 
He then again to private Hfe retires, 
To rest beside the hearth-stone's genial fires; 
And here life's joys outshine the glories past, 
As moonbeams pale when the sun's bright rays 

are cast. 
And now his life its full fruition brings 
And the bird of joy along his pathway sings. 

Far o'er the seas a sailor speeds his way 
And laughs to see the foaming billows play; 
The wind that sweeps the mighty oceans o'er 
Appalls him not — there's music in its roar. 
He falls asleep when storms terrific rise, 
Then wakes again to gaze on sunny skies. 
His home secure is on the rolling deep, 
Where the sunbeams dance, or the wild winds 

sweep. 
His Hfe 's as free as the breezes that play 
O'er the sunlit seas on a summer's day. 
As 'mong the islands of the tropical seas 
He breathes the balm from the blossoming trees, 
Or rests on the shore 'neath the orange groves. 
Or over their spicy plains in gladness roves. 
Thus his life is spent, but then age steals on. 
And his manhood's strength from his frame is 



273 



His life 's been spent upon the ocean grand, 
But yet he has a home in his native land, 
And to his home he now returns again 
Where peace and comfort round his hearth-stone 

reign, 
Far from the wild wave's maddening roar and 

strife, 
To soothe and cheer his lonely, aged wife 
And rest within the beam his hearth-stone throws, 
Where joy serene forever 'round it flows. 
Its light at length illuminates his soul, 
And peaceful visions 'round his pathway roll. 

A lover 's doomed to quit his native land. 
He 's banished by a parent's stern command. 
He bids adieu to her of all most dear. 
While she in frenzy wild sheds not a tear. 
Too dark and hopeless is her poignant grief 
To find in tears a solace or rehef. 
While he 's o'erwhelmed in clouds of dark despair 
To be thus severed from his lover fair. 
Thus both deplore their hard and hopeless fate, 
While life a burden seems in their sad state. 
Now he must wander on a foreign shore. 
And she remain his absence to deplore. 
'Tis thus affection's holiest bonds are broke, 
And fondest hearts lay quivering by the stroke. 
The cruel sire had thought to separate. 
His son from her he deemed of low estate, 
274 



By sending him across the waters wide, 

To seek a home upon the other side 

And thus to wean him from "his thoughtless toy" 

And leave her free, "to wed some humbler boy." 

But scarce one year had rolled its seasons round, 

Ere she did follow and her lover found, 

And now o'erjoyed they meet to part no more, 

And bless the day they touched Columbia's shore, 

And then proceed to build themselves a home 

From which there 's nought would tempt them 

e'er to roam. 
Misfortunes oft prove blessings in disguise. 
And such to them now seems this glad surprise. 
They dwell with strangers in a foreign land 
And therefore closer walking hand in hand. 
To absence of their kin they are resigned, 
And thus more closely their fond hearts are 

joined. 
The charms of home are strengthened day by 

day, 
As each endearing object they survey; 
A light seems shed around their altar's fires 
That fills and equals all their fond desires. 
Their home to them seems bright as glory's 

beam, 
And blissful as Elysium's happy dream. 
But swiftly now the years are fleeing past, 
And joys so dear, are prone to wane at last. 
275 



But this fair home, to them as dear as life, 
Was ne'er the scene of angry words or strife, 
And 'round the hearth-stone's glowing bright 

and fair 
Was sweet content for those who gathered there. 
A model rural home, from folly free, 
Where happy children come to shout their glee. 
Where Freedom reigns o'er all from sire to son, 
And wisdom's work by all is ever done, 
Where hope is ever smiHng o'er the scene, 
And cheerful duties bring their joys serene; 
And every day through all the rolling year 
All live in peace without a shade of fear. 
And thus does life its brightest colors wear 
Around the hearth-stone of this faithful pair; 
And it would seem no other spot on earth 
Is half so dear as 'round the family hearth. 
And if we search, with care, the wide world 'round. 
The highest types of manhood here are found. 
Where northern breezes sometimes chill the air. 
Then life is glorious 'round the hearth-stone fair. 
The bracing air without gives life its zest. 
And then within around the hearth to rest, 
Where joy domestic full fruition brings 
With those we love above all earthly things. 
A home like this, a foretaste here of heaven. 
All may not have — the chance to all is given. 
To rest in peace so free from care and strife^ 
No greater boon e'er comes to us in life. 
March i6, 1886. 

276 



SUNSHINE. 

"In the beginning-," — long ago — 'twas said, 
That darkness brooded o'er the trackless void 
And Chaos, king of darkness, ruled the depths. 
And one abysmal night had ever been. 
'Twas ere the shining source of light and life 
Had sent his rays to wake the black abyss. 
When naught there was but blackness over all — 
From out the hand omnipotent came forth 

In all his majesty the mighty Orb 
And rose in grandeur o'er the morning young. 
And thrice essayed the darkness to dispel. 
But like a mountain dense the darkness stood. 
And Chaos yielded not his wonted reign, 
Until the fourth attempt was made, stood firm. 
But then the sun redoubled all his force, 
When darkness fled, and Chaos followed close, 
And hid them in the lowest depths of space 
And never more did dare to meet his gaze. 
Then here amid those silent depths profound 
The golden sun looked down in peace and smiled. 
And sent his rays far through the realms of space. 
And swifter than the lightning's fitful gleam, 
Yet gentle as a sleeping infants' breath, 
The earth came forth in gladness then, and smiled 
With flowers, and shrubs, and plants, and trees 

most rare, 
That bloomed in beauty fair; and then came fruit, 

277 



In bountiful supply, for man and beast, 

And plenty came, and crowned each rolling year. 

All this the golden sunshine did with joy — 

He shed his light and warmth around the earth, 

And forms gigantic then sprang into growth. 

And as the long array of ages passed. 

This monstrous growth was buried deep in gloom, 

And long was held in store to come again 

And give the world its warmth, and light, and force. 

When cold and darkness held despotic sway. 

As parent of the earth the sun has given 

It all it is, or has, or e'er can have. 

He shines upon the faded cheek of youth. 

When lo! the ruddy tinge of health appears; 

The tender petals of the flowers unfold 

And drink with deepest joy his gracious light. 

And send their richest fragrance forth, in thanks. 

Upon the singing breezes, round the earth. 

'Tis sunshine paints with red the apple's cheek. 

With green the landscape, and the forest leaf — 

The rose looks up and thanks it for its tint. 

And all the glory of the sky, and air, 

At morn, at noon, and at the crimson eve — 

And the beauty of the rainbow on the cloud. 

All, all, are penciled by the sunbeam's touch. 

His warmth does lift the waters of the sea. 

Unseen, in vapor rising high in air 

And pours them down in rain upon the earth, 

278 



That fills the brimming rivers of the worid ; 

The rivers hasten their return to the sea, 

To be again thus poured upon the land, 

Reviving and refreshing all the fields 

And quenching feverish thirst in man and beast. 

'Tis sunshine gives the moving winds their sway, 

That moves the commerce of the world o'er seas 

To continents and isles, before unknown. 

And brings them as it were, to friendly terms. 

Although the sun 's a hundred miUion miles away. 

His welcome hght and warmth seems ever near. 

And through this almost endless stretch of space 

He wields a power omnipotent on earth. 

Beyond the computation, alike, of all; 

And when we view his grandeur, and his power, 

through all, 
We loose ourselves in ampUtude of thought. 
Yet he 's no farther off than Alpine heights. 
Compared with other suns that float in space. 
The contemplation of this mighty orb 
That fills the worlds around with golden light. 
And warms to Hfe so many myriad souls, 
Doth elevate and purify the mind, 
And gives us hope, the sunshine of the heart — 
The sweet assurance that the light of love 
Will beam upon us all beyond the veil. 
The thought that Hght should be withdrawn from 

earth — 

279 



The Sun fade out, or stray to other parts, 

And death and darkness gather over all. 

Was by a gifted author told, who says, 

''The bright Sun was extinguished, and the stars 

Did wander darkHng in the eternal space, 

Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth 

Swung bHnd and blackening in the moonless air. 

Morn came and went — and came, and brought no 

day. 
And men forgot their passions in the dread 
Of this their desolation; and all hearts 
Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light. 
And they did live by watchfires — and the thrones, 
The palaces of crowned kings — the huts, 
The habitations of all things which dwell, 
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed. 
And men were gathered 'round their blazing homes 
To look once more into each other's faces. 
Forests were set on fire — but hour by hour 
They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks 
Extinguished with a crash — and all was black. 
The brows of men by the despairing light 
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits 
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down 
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest 
Their chins upon their clenched hands and smiled; 
And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up 

280 



With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 

The pall of a past world; and then again 

With curses cast them down upon the dust, 

And gnashed their teeth and howled. The wild 

birds shrieked 
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, 
And flap their useless wings; and wildest brutes 
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled 
And twined themselves among the multitude. 
Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food; 
And war, which for a moment was no more. 
Did glut himself again; — a meal was bought 
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart, 
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left: 
All earth was but one thought — and that was death, 
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang 
Of famine fed upon all entrails — men 
Died and their bones were tombless as their flesh: 
The meager by the meager were devoured. 
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one. 
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept 
The birds and beasts and famished men at bay. 
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead 
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, 
But with a piteous and perpetual moan, 
And quick, desolate cry, licking the hand 
Which answered not with a caress — he died." 
And thus would death and ruin follow swift. 
Were sunshine nevermore to light the earth. 
March 30, 1886 

281 



DOLLY'S DEAD! 

Dolly ever kind and true, 

Tenderly I think of you 
As I walk the pasture through, 
Dolly's dead! 

Neighing when I came in sight, 

Running to me with dehght, 
Ears erect and eyes so bright — 
Dolly's dead! 

Just as if you wished to say, 

"Come and live with me for aye," 
As on my breast your head would lay- 
Dolly's dead! 

Now your stall will empty be 

And no one will ever see 
Corn and hay put in for thee — 
Dolly's dead! 

You were blameless on the day 

That you wildly ran away. 
To the barbed wire a prey — 
Dolly's dead! 

You from idle fears were free 

At the falling of the tree 
That so scared the other three — 
Dolly's dead! 
282 



So young and fair, good, and great! 
But they dragged you to your fate 
As I sadly here relate — 
Dolly's dead! 

And my heart is bleeding still. 

For no other one can fill 
Your place for kindness and good will — 
Dolly's dead! 

A favorite young mare that was killed by being dragged into 
a barbed wire fence in a runaway team, April 26, 1886. 

May 9, 1886. 



THE ANSWER. 

BEING A REPLY TO *'WHAT DOES IT MATTER?" 
BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. 

It matters not, in our Ufe's brief day — 
Whether joy or fear, or love or hate, 

If the bubble burst and is gone for aye. 
Where we are born, or what is our fate; 

But is this all there is of hfe, 

This toil, and struggle, pain and strife? 

Is there no hope for the coming morrow — 
Is the gloom of doubt spread over all? 

Is the future darkened with present sorrow — 
Is the Angel of Hope draped in a pall? 

Is life no more than gold and power, 
That rise and fall in one short hour? 

283 



Why should we fear the gloom of the grave? 

We lie not there in the moldering earth, 
But dwell in the light our spirits crave 

Which makes death sweeter far than birth, 
And love, and peace, and hope, and truth 

Are radiant joys in perennial youth. 

Whether our lives are short or long, 
Or bright with joy, or black with woe — 

Whether they 're in the right or wrong 
In this short span of life below — 

We 're ever building bright and fair 
Our habitations over there. 
July IQ, 1886. 



284 



THOMAS BROWN. 

Once there was a little man, 

'Twas little, too, he said; 
He came into our town to live, 

Upon his daily bread. 

He was a man of humble birth. 
Had never sought renown — 

He lived at peace with all the world,. 
His name was Thomas Brown. 

He sat upon his stool all day. 
And pegged upon his last — 

And chewed the cud of sweet content 
While days of plenty passed. 

When wild ambition fired his brain, 
A merchant he would be — 

And rapidly grow rich and great 
Upon life's favored sea; 

But all his happy visions fled, 
And left him sad and sore. 

Then to his awls and pegs and last 
Would he return no more. 

He fain would be a healer now — 
The doctor's skill he tried, 

And dealt out powders, pills and teas. 
But all his patients died. 

285 



And then he thought an office would 

His coffers fill with gold, 
And soon the shining star was pinned, 

Upon his garment's fold: 

But ** roughs" soon pitched him out of doors, 

When he 'd enforce the law, 
And tore the star from off his breast. 

As if it was a straw! 

And now he's on the tinkers' scheme, 

And clocks that will not go. 
Are brought y and laid upon his shelf. 

But money comes in slow. 

Dame Fortune 's been a sly old jade 
To treat with Thomas Brown — 

But yet he paces slowly on 
Through this ungrateful town. 
Sept. 19, 1886. 



286 



CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 

Listen to the Christmas chimes, 
Coming down from olden times! 

Hear its music round us pour 
With its merry ringing rhymes, 

Sounding on from shore to shore! 

Yes, we heard them long ago 
Like a silver streamlet flow, 

And again they come to-day, 
Pealing through the falling snow. 

Sweet as songsters of the May. 

And those Chimes, they sweeter seem 
Than fair childhood's sweetest dream. 

Falling on the Ustening ear 
Like the music of some stream. 

Rippling through the garden near. 

O'er the ages of the past. 
All its glory has been cast, 

Round all hearts, made light and free. 
Warming into friendship fast, 

As sunshine warms a frozen sea. 

And the laughter that we hear. 
As the festive day draws near — 

Chiming with our joyful hearts, 
Drives away all dread and fear. 

And the sweetest thrill imparts. 

287 



And the children's artless songs 
All our wealth of joy prolongs — 

Stirring all the depths within, 
While all shades of rights and wrongs 

Seem as though they ne'er had been. 

And the lover's voice is low, 
As it nears the hour to go — 

But the pKghted vow is made. 
And the moments lagging slow. 

Till the wedding feast is laid. 

And the music of the bells 
All its gMsome story tells 

Of the day when all rejoice — 
How with love each bosom swells. 

Uttering forth a single voice. 

Thus we hear those silver chimes 
Coming down to modern times — 

All they say is, ^' sweet goodwill ^''^ 
Blessing all with sunny climes 

Though the Winter 's dark and chill. 
November 30, 1886. 



288 



A BLIGHTED LIFE. 

She lay upon her couch, a Uttle girl, 
While silken tresses round her temples curl — 
Her life has scarcely measured one decade, 
Yet blighted to the core, 'neath a somber shade. 
No gleam of hope has ever crossed her path — 
The victim of misfortune's direst wrath! 
Before her birth her fearful doom was set, 
And one there is who ne'er can cease regret. 
The lamp of reason never on her shone. 
And daily suffering all she 's ever known. 
Her mother sat before the sacred shrine. 
With worshippers to hear the Word Divine — 
Beheld the man of God falling on his face, 
And thus an impress time can ne'er erase 
Was left upon her unborn, hapless child 
Which racks it daily with convulsions wild. 
How sad the thought that pity's tender strains 
Can ne'er beguile a moment's cruel pains. 
No skill of man can ever give release — 
Must suffer thus till mortal breath shall cease. 
The only hope that in our hearts doth rise 
Is that this flower may bloom in Paradise. 
Dec. 6, 1886. 



289 



THE LAST DAYS. 

When four-score years have lengthened out our days, 
And weary nights are dragging slowly on, 

And life's great burden heavy on us weighs, 
Then peace and rest would seem forever gone. 

When bowed beneath the burden of our years, 
Decrepitude and pain are all that's left, 

Our eyes too dim to find relief in tears — 
Of all the joys we've known are thus bereft. 

And when disease from which there 's no release 
Has laid his ruthless hands upon our frame, 

And nought on earth can ever give us peace — 
And lost is all desire for wealth or fame — ■ 

When life's bright hopes have turned to moldering 
dust, 

And day and night there 's no surcease of pain — 
And mem'ries tablets covered deep with rust — 

And depths of darkness all around us reign — 

'Tis then the hght beyond breaks on our view, 
And Hope's bright pinions mount the glowing sky. 

And eagerly we're ready to pursue. 

Where radiant joys now seem forever nigh. 

And pain and anguish now are felt no more. 
As downward through the vista comes the gleam 

Of golden gladness from the "shining shore," 
Surpassing all of glory's brightest dream. 
290 



The dreaded "boatman" now an angel seems, 
No longer is he clothed in raiment dark, 

The light of goodness ever round him streams 
To light in safety o'er our feeble bark. 

And thus the glory of the new-born life 

Has come with power to bless a thousand-fold, 

Forever free from all the old-time strife. 
And ne'er again to grow so weak and old. 

December 13, 1886. 

TUFF. 

A maiden sat by the sea and sighed 
And sadly gazed on the heaving tighed, 
And Oh! how sad and wildly she crighed, 
"Forever now I am undone." 

Her lover 'neath the waves had dighed, 
His lovely form on the billows righed 
Far away on the ocean wighed, 

Alone and sad at the set of sone. 
December 18, 1886. 



2gi 



UNCLE 'BIJAH DOLE. 

There lives one man within our town 

Whom everybody knows, 
He is a man of many years, 

But never older grows. 
In seeming always just the same 

In body and in soul, 
And everybody loves to think 

Of Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 

At half past four the long year through 

He rises from his bed 
And straightway to his labor goes 

To see his cows are fed. 
And when the milking all is done. 

The breakfast bell doth toll, 
Then with his good wife at the board 

Sits Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 

Through all the changes of the year 

Of heat or cold, or storm. 
He's ever pushing bravely on 

His duties to perform; 
And every morning of the year 

As Sol doth upward roll. 
To take his milk-cans to the town 

Goes Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 

2q2 



Unto the house of God doth he, 

Upon each Sabbath go — 
Most reverently to hear the Word 

With head so bowed and low, 
And humbly at the house of prayer 

Doth he pour out his soul — 
No man's more faithful to his vows 

Than Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 

His genial face is daily seen 

Upon the village street, 
With upright form and gentle words 

His neighbors glad to greet. 
Misfortune never seeks in vain 

His purse strings to control, 
For none are empty turned away 

From Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 

When duty prompts he ever moves 

Obedient to her call, 
And none who on his word depend 

Have cause to trip or fall, 
Thus everybody knows his worth 

And nobleness of soul. 
And when he 's gone will feel the loss, 

Of Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 

293 



He's unassuming in his ways 

Nor fond of rich attire, 
So plain and honest is his Hfe — 

Such life must all admire. 
This earth would be a Paradise 

Spread out from pole to pole, 
If every man was half as good 

As Uncle 'Bijah Dole. 
December 31, 1886. 



2Q4 



THE NEW BELL. 

Manteno town is doing well, 
Her ladies fair will buy a bell 
And hang it in the tower above 
Where Christian people meet in love, 
And then its music sweet and clear 
Will swell upon the grateful ear, 
And ever on the Sabbath days 
Will sweetly sing those ladies' praise. 

Chorus. 

Their grateful thanks they'll gladly tell, 
If friends will aid them buy the bell. 



When worshippers again would meet 
'Twill ring a welcome clear and sweet, 
For many miles the country 'round 
Will people heed its cheering sound, 
And hasten to the house of prayer 
To meet their loving brethren there — 
Where sweet devotion of the hour 
Is heightened by its magic power. 

Chorus. 

E'en now methinks I hear its knell, 
So help the ladies buy the bell. 
295 



And when hymeneal rites are due, 
Its joyful tones will welcome you 
To where before the altar stand 
A man and maiden hand in hand, 
And she with shining ringlets fair. 
Has orange blossoms in her hair, 
And he with manly brow serene 
Stands calmly gazing on the scene. 

Chorus. 

And smihng, hears the music tell, 

Its thanks to those who bought the bell. 



And then when life's last days are o'er. 
And friends pass on to the ''Mystic shore," 
And loving ones are left to mourn 
With bleeding hearts and anguish — torn, 
Then all can hear its solemn toll, 
Its sad farewell to a parting soul, 
Its music being last on earth. 
To cheer it in its glorious birth. 

Chorus. 

Thus tenderly the last farewell 
Is uttered by the grateful bell. 
April 4, 1887. 

296 



A TRIBUTE TO DEPARTED WORTH. 
Dear friend, thy days of mortal life 

Forever now have passed away, 
And now no more can earthly strife 

With deadly din thy soul dismay. 

We yesterday beheld thy form, 
So sweetly sleeping in its ease, 

Beyond the reach of every storm — 
Love's signet written on its face. 

Through all thy three-score years and ten 
Thy upright soul has proven true, 

Its aim to hft the sons of men 
The higher plains of Hfe to view. 

Thy friendship like a golden chain 
Held all our hearts within its power, 

And thus forever must remain, 
A legacy of richest dower. 

And now upon the "golden shore" 

Thou 'rt resting 'mid the scenes of love, 

Where beams of glory long before 

Had fixed thy long-sought home above. 

Farewell, dear friend, we '11 come to thee 
When all the storms of life are o'er — 

Thy angel welcome then will be, 
"We're joined again forevermore." 
April 1 6, 1887. 

Written in memoriam of Miss Jane E. Dennis, who passed 
peacefully away April 12, 1887. 

297 



THE VETERAN. 

Comrades 1 comrades brave! 'twas an April day 
When the bugle sounded, calHng to the fray 
And at our country's call without a fear 
We left our sweethearts and our homes so dear. 
Our hearts were light that morning long ago, 
And eager were we then to meet the foe. 
We marched to music in those early times, 
But songs of home were oft our only rhymes. 
The forest or the mountain was our home. 
And at night our only roof was heaven's dome; 
The ground our bed; our thoughts upon the field. 
Our hearts beat high — determined ne'er to yield. 
For four long years did we struggle and fight, 
For four long years, for the ''Union and the Right," 
For four long years did our blood flow like rain — 
The blood that cemented our Union again! 
The Angel of Peace then came down from above, 
Our skies again smiled with her presence and love. 
And then we returned to our homes once more — 
The wounds on our bodies still bleeding and sore — 
To rest and rejoice in our triumph so great, 
The enemy conquered, and conquered his hate! 
The strength and flower of my manhood has fled. 
And the snows of winter are a crown to my head; 
I know long years have come and have passed away, 
But those scenes are fresh, as of yesterday. 
And I sit and muse o'er those scenes again 



When the leaden hail seems to fall like rain — 

The battle is on with its shock and roar, 

And seem to mingle in its strife once more. 

My comrades are falling on every side, 

As the Demon of Death through our ranks doth ride. 

Again must I sleep on the bloody ground 

With the dead and the dying in piles around. 

But this seems as naught, as you all may know, 

To the prison-pen with starvation and woe. 

My re very past, my thoughts I recall 

To find myself here in this spacious hall, 

Built by a comrade so generous and true 

For our Army Grand, with its red, white, and blue. 

And gladly do I meet you here today 

To honor our comrades who fell by the way. 

They are now at rest, their labor is done, 

Immortal applause from the world they have won! 

This tribute of flowers, thus annually given. 

Is incense sweet to their spirits in heaven. 

May 25, 1887. 



299 



LINES ADDRESSED TO MR. AND MRS. 
JOHN C. BUNDY ON THE 25th ANNI- 
VERSARY OF THEIR MARRIAGE. 

Five-and-twenty circuits, under Hymen's reign, 
Traveling thro' the sunshine, the darkness,and again 
Over rugged mountains, thro' the valleys low, 
BattHng for Hfe's purpose — marching to and fro; 
Five-and-twenty summers smiled upon you fair — 
Five-and-twenty winters filled the frosty air. 
And amid life's triumphs you here repeat your vows. 
While the glowing future your highest hopes arouse. 
Now Life's Silver Goblet overflows its brim. 
But the past is fading, its scenes are growing dim. 
Yet the Golden Future is radiant with light 
Borrowed from the pleasures of this auspicious night. 
May the "silver chain" your faithful hearts entwine 
And Love's bright flame ever round your pathway 

shine. 
And may good Angels welcome you, when life's 

toils are o'er 
And your weary feet are resting on that blissful shore. 
August 19, 1887. 



300 



THE POOR HEATHEN'S FATE. 

To the seething depths below, 

Must the hapless heathen go — 
Here to leave all hope behind, 

Nor God's mercy ever find — 
Where they'll never know their God 

But forever feel the rod — 
And through endless ages share 

All the torture they can bear. 
Yes, forever without blame 

Must they writhe in ceaseless flame. 
Better had they ne'er been born 

Than such hopeless Hfe forlorn. 
For those born beyond the sea 

From God's wrath are never free. 
While those born upon this side 

All may swift to glory ride. 
Thus doth God in wisdom reign 

To divide us all in twain: 
Whom he will, he lifts up higher, 

Whom he will, he grills in fire. 
August 27, 1887. 



301 



EARLY AUTUMN. 

The burning breath of Summer now is ended 
That scorched the earth full long and sore, 

The Autumn air with sweetness now is blended, 
And rest and peace have come once more. 

With garnered sheaves the barns are heavy-laden. 
And fruits for Winter stored away — 

Rejoicing now behold the smiling maiden, 
As Autumn tints around her play. 

For now she sees the leaves in golden splendor, 

In this her fancy takes delight; 
It fills her heart with love so sweet and tender 

To thus behold the gorgeous sight. 

The days are warm, he nights are cool and bracing. 

At morn the frost is on the grass. 
So healthful thus the winds — with naught debasing 

Upon the breezes as they pass. 

The smiling astors Hnger in their beauty 

To cheer the traveler on his way. 
And tell how sweet to thus perform their duty, 

Be that duty humble as it may. 

The nimbel squirrel now is very busy 

In storing up a the nuts that fall. 
Or running up the trees to heights so dizzy 

That oft his daring doth appall. 

302 



The songs of blackbirds from the tree-tops ringing 

With melody fill the sweet air — 
Their farewell lays the robins too are singing 

So joyously and free from care. 

And thus the wealth of Autumn's golden season 

Is found in splendor on the earth, 
And all God's creatures have ample reason 

For joyous thankfulness and mirth. 
Oct. 4, 1887. 

NIL DESPERANDUM. 
When upon life's weary way 
Should the clouds obscure the day, 
While the sun is hanging low. 
And the tide 's about to flow, 
And the waves are dashing high 
With evil omens in the sky — 
Never despair! but look above, 
God forever rules in love! 

When upon the mighty deep, 
And the waves awake from sleep. 
Now in fury rising high. 
While the winds go howling by — 
Drives the bark upon the strand. 
And there seems no helping hand — 
Never despair! but look above, 
God forever rules in love! 

303 



When comes sorrow's bitter draft 
And the dregs at last are quaffed, 
And the soul with utmost dread 
Is by darkest phantoms fed — 
And a darkness over all 
Thick as midnight's blackest pall — 
Never despair! but look above, 
God forever rules in love! 

When the cyclone's angry roar 
Breaks in terror — black and sore, 
And the clouds by fury whirled — 
Ruin spreading through the world — 
Cities scattered far and wide — 
Moaning heard on every side — 
Never despair! but look above, 
God forever rules in love! 

When the earthquake in its wrath 
Leaves destruction in its path — 
Sparing naught on land or sea. 
Save but those who chance to flee. 
And the skies are thick with gloom 
Dark and dreadful — ^black as doom- 
Never despair! but look above — 
God forever rules in love! 
304 



Ever thus should hope serene 
Shed its hght o'er darkest scene. 
Better 'tis to hope and fail, 
Then despair its curse entail. 
Better 'tis to try again, 
Yielding never — ope will reign. 
Never despair! but look above — 
God forever rules in love! 

Oct. 5, 1887. 



ANGELS. 

Being an addendum to a prose article under same title written 
for the Christmas No. of R. P. Journal, 1887. 

Good angels from the realms of bhss, 

We bless you evermore, 
With grateful hearts we tender this 

From out our ample store. 

The debt we owe we'll ne'er repay 
For love and kindness shown. 

Until long ages roll away 

And we have stronger grown. 

The riches you have thus bestowed 

Some day '11 return to you, 
And lighten all your weary load, 

You 've borne the ages through. 

305 



Then we will take your places here, 
To bless poor mortal life, 

And you will rise to higher sphere. 
Now freed from earthly strife. 

And ever on through shining realms 
Your upward course will run. 

Where dazzling beauty overhelms 
'Neath wisdom's glowing sun. 

And thus we bless our own estate 

By lifting others up — 
And sometimes all may, soon or late, 
From joy's sweet chalice sup. 
Nov. 25, 1887. 



306 



THE '' IRON HAND." 

Before man learned to till the earth 

In ages long ago — 
Before he learned to delve for wealth 

In secret depths below — 
Before the Hght of learning shed 

Its glare upon his mind, 
And poverty and riches swayed 

The lives of human kind — 



Before the sun of civil life 

Had risen in the sky — 
Before the greed of gold had wrung 

From man the bitter cry — 
Before the smoke of cities' rose 

In clouds upon the air — 
And man had learned the craft of power 

That withers all that's fair: 

'Tis said, that in this Olden Time 

An Eden state of peace 
Smiled sweetly on the fair young earth 

And knowledge did increase, 
And Liberty, the boon of all, 

Stood proudly in her place, 
And Freedom's gentle scepter swayed 

The hves of all the race. 

307 



But knowledge came and lust of power, 

That steeled the hearts of men, 
And learning with her magic wand 

Proud waved her banners then; 
And temples rose to unknown gods, 

And toilers multipHed, 
And kings and priests ruled o'er the earth, 

And Peace and Freedom died. 

Vast Pyramids of stone were piled 

To stand ten thousand years. 
That kings and queens might have a tomb 

Just laved with toilers' tears — 
Great cities too in splendor rose, 

By mountain-side and plain; 
Built by the bleeding hands of slaves, 

Who toiled for others' gain. 

Then Empire spread her banners wide 

In lands beyond the sea. 
And nations young and mighty rise 

That strive to make men free. 
But slaves are there who never felt 

The gift of freedom's right — 
Who wrought beneath a driver's lash 

From morning until night. 
308 



At length a cyclone swept the earth 

That broke the tyrant's chain, 
And Liberty's effulgent sun 

Rose o'er the world again — 
Although a million lives it cost 

And countless treasure spent, 
Before the hateful monster fell 

And to his doom was sent. 

Then hope arose around the world. 

That all men should be free, 
But tyranny in name of law 

Soon spread from sea to sea. 
The few obtained control of all 

From tottering age to youth — 
The wrong and false predominate 

In place of right and truth. 

And thus the love and power of gold 

Hath swayed the souls of men, 
And bid them hoard a nation's wealth. 

Like misers, in a den — 
While woe and want stalk o'er the land. 

And ignorance and crime 
Run riot, where had else been peace 

And happiness subHme. 

309 



So since that early age of peace, 

The toiler's only right 
Has been to strive from year to year, 

Beneath the hand of Might — 
A hand of iron — strong as fate 

Has held him to the ground. 
Through all those long and weary years 

No respite has he found. 

The river of his briny tears 

Has worn a channel deep 
Through all the kingdoms of the earth. 

With wild and wanton sweep — 
His plaint is heard on every breeze. 

Far over land and sea — 
Forever sounds his sad appeal, 

"O make the toiler free." 



"But truth shall conquer at the last," 

And right shall come to reign, 
And wisdom teach the toiler yet 

The might that's in his brain. 
How learning, union, and the strength 

That slumbers in his soul. 
May lift the "Iron Hand" that binds. 

And give him just control. 

December i8, 1887. 

310 



THE WHITE WINGS OF PROGRESS. 
We hear the angels' voices, 

They sing sweet words of cheer, 
And then the soul rejoices, 
For naught it has to fear. 

Forever and forever 

They 're pressing nobly on, 

And by their best endeavor 
We now behold the dawn. 

A dawn to us far sweeter 
Than dawn of Winter's sun, 

And on white wings far fleeter 
Than lightning 's ever run. 

And thus the day advances, 

Led on by angels fair — 
Its Hght in glory dances 

Upon the gladsome air. 

And onward through the ages 
The mists are cleared away — 

Endowing seers and sages, 
With wisdom's golden ray. 

And lifting up the weary 
From out the Winding dust 

With words so sweet and cheery, 
They're filled with love and trust. 

3" 



Their songs of love and beauty 
Now thrill the ether through— 

They sing of love and duty — 
Of lives forever true. 

Forever thus unfolding, 

Through all the rolling years, 

And Glory's schemes beholding 
Within the radiant spheres. 
December 3, 1887. 



THE MAID OF MANTENO. 

A Httle girl of tender years 

Was standing on the street — 
A cherub born of smiles and tears, 

With features round and sweet. 

Four summers scarce had passed her by, 
Yet wrapped in cloak and hood. 

While softly beamed her dark brown eyes, 
In pensive quiet stood. 

As if her thoughts were far away, 
Fixed on the world's wild race. 

And visions of the coming fray 
Were pictured on her face. 
312 



Approaching her with kindly aim, 

I softly to her said, 
**My Httle girl, what is your name?'* 

My hand laid on her head. 

She did not move, she did not speak, 

Nor did she even smile. 
But turned to me her placid cheek 

And viewed me thus the while; 

And then her lips moved to and fro, 
I thought her speech had come — 

And then her jaws began to go. 
She's only chewing gum! 

And then I gave a mild reproof 
To this young maiden there: 

"From habits thus should stand aloof 
And be more pure and fair/' 

Then from her mouth she drew the gum, 
Quick on the ground it lies — 

But now great briny tears have come 
And ghsten in her eyes. 

Then silently I walked away. 
She still remaining dumb — 
Her soul o'erwhelmed in dark dismay 
For throwing away her gum, 
Dec. II, 1887. 

313 



MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT. 

OR 
A PICTURE OF PESSIMISM. 

MORNING. 

A new-born babe comes wailing into life, 
Beginning with its breath its mortal strife. 
It only knows of tears that fall like rain, 
A morn of clouds, that brings it naught but pain; 
And lone it wanders o'er a thorny path, 
And daily feels Misfortune's bitter wrath. 
No morning sunshine Hghts its lurid skies, 
While clouds and darkness blind its weary eyes. 
The light of hope was never 'round it shed, 
And all its days are full of fear and dread, 
And all its nights are void of ease and rest, 
While hopeless sorrow chokes its heaving breast. 
And thus the morn without a single ray 
Of hope or peace has ushered in the day. 

NOON 

The noon of life has come without release 
From bitter pangs, that robbed its morn of peace, 
And womanhood that bears a joyless life 
Is doomed to wage its childhood's bitter strife. 
hen came the fervid glow of noonday's hour 
Her strength was suffering, added to her dower, 
A dower of suffering few on earth have known. 
From seeds of virus by her parents sown. 

314 



And each long year seems more than she can bear, 
While day and night come waihng with despair. 
And Pity's hand can never give relief — 
And Hope's bright face is veiled in bitter grief. 
Her sun of life, so chilled with vain regret, 
Is doomed at last in darkest night to set; 
And thus a soul without one stain of guile 
Must come and go, and never feel the smile 
Of Hfe's sweet purpose in this cheerful world. 
And then by Death to utter darkness hurled! 

NIGHT 

Down, down she falls into eternal night, 
And nevermore will she behold the light — 
A hopeless night to her poor wailing soul. 
Who's lived for naught except this dreadful goal. 
Some look to death as a kind and welcome friend 
Who comes at last their hopeless pangs to end; 
But to this soul ne'er came the vain desire. 
For Death she knew would bring a fate most 

dire — 
This monster Gorgon came with fell intent 
And bore her down to depths that ne'er relent, 
Where evermore shall waves of anguish roll 
In unconsuming fury round her soul! 
Her writhing form shall quiver in its pain, 
While never-ending horrors round her reign. 
And worst of all, and most does she deplore. 
Her awful doom is sealed forevermore, 
And all because of unrelenting Fate 
Which gods nor men can ever mitigate. 
Dec. 13, 1887. 

315 



A WAIL OF WOE 

There comes wailing down the ages 

The weary voice of woe, 
It speaks of direst wretchedness, 

Too deep for tears to know. 

It speaks of riot and ruin. 
Of nights of sleepless dread — 

Of a woman broken-hearted. 
Sole watcher by her dead. 

The dead, her darhng infant. 

Her hope of earthly bliss. 
Who 's been sent to a world of riches 

By the poverty of this. 

'Twas forsaken by its father. 
Who sought the poisoned bowl 

To revel in nightly orgies 
That darken o'er his soul. 

It speaks of squalid poverty. 

Where want and gloom doth reign— 
Of wasted, ruined households — 

Of a poisoned, maddened brain. 

It tells of constant turmoil — 

Of fratricidal strife — 
Of sons in maddened frenzy 

Who take their father's life. 
316 



It moans in filthy prisons 

Amid the foulest air, 
Then pours out bitter curses 

On everything that's fair. 

It jeers upon the gallows-tree, 
When Death is standing nigh — 

And taunts with grossest ribaldry 
The crowd that 's passing by. 

It mocks the woes of woman, 

A mother, or a wife — 
And robs poor, helpless orphans 

Of home, and peace, and life. 

In cities loud it revels 
Among the high and low — 

In lonely country places 
We hear its wail of woe. 

It robs the tender maiden 

Of purity in Hfe, 
And gloats upon her ruin 

Into wild and frenzied strife. 

Man's brightest crown of reason 
It tramples in the dust — 

The shining wheels of progress 
It quickly chokes with rust. 

317 



It plucks the rose of beauty 

From off an angel face, 
And stings the heart of goodness 

With the fangs of dark disgrace- 
It withers all it touches 

With misery and bhght, 
And wreck and ruin follow 

Forever close in sight. 

Its echoes from the mountain 
Come wailing o'er the plain, 

And from the mighty ocean 
Come back to us again. 

And men in countless numbers 
Are heeding not its call — 

Regarding not its warning — 
The voice of Alcohol. 
Dec. 14, 1887. 



318 



APRIL. 

April! with thy changeful face, 
Smiling through thy artless grace — 
Fickle-minded, full of fun, 
Romping with the clouds and sun — 
Full of promise — hope deferred, 
Ever prone to break thy word. 
While thy breath is hot or cold — 
Timid now and then so bold — 
Frowning clouds upon thy brow. 
Smiling sweetly on us now. 
Tears and sunshine come and go, 
Chasing after flakes of snow, 
While the timid wayside flowers 
Greet with smiles thy fitful showers. 
Thou hast brought the birds along. 
Blessing morn and eve with song. 
Thou art coy, but bless thy soul. 
Soon thou 'It reach thy destined goal. 
And Miss May with glowing face 
Soon will take thy envied place. 
And we'll bid thee kind adieu 
For all the good things thou didst do, 
For thou'st done thy work so well, 
SmilingTMay can with us dwell. 
April 19, 1888. 



319 



THE ROBINS 

Wild March was wearing fast away, 
The days were growing longer, 

The fitful sunshine came and went. 
Its warmth at times grew stronger. 

The equinoctial storms had come, 

Succeeding fairer weather. 
The robins from their southern home 

Had come in flocks together. 

This day was wild with rain and sleet, 
The wintry winds were blowing, 

The air was chill with cold and gloom. 
By turns it fell to snowing. 

The robins then a shelter found 
Where brushy stems were bending. 

And fed upon the berries red 
On withered boughs depending. 

And from the fury of the storm 
They sought the open porches, 

A score or more came fluttering in 
With breasts that flamed Hke torches. 

They lit upon the balustrade 
Or marched behind the lattice, 

And promenaded on the floor 
As though it was theirs, gratis. 
320 



The crumbs I threw upon the ground 

They ate with satisfaction, 
Then quickly fluttered in again 

For warmth and home attraction. 

Their songs from me they must withhold 

Until the time of flowers, 
That wait beneath the ice and snow 

The warmth of April showers. 
March 25, 1888. 

MAY 

May, the messenger of love. 
Brings sweet incense from above — 
And her voices on the air 
Thrill with music everywhere — 
While her bland, deHghtful breeze 
Toys with blossoms on the trees. 
And her sunshine's ample fold 
Clothes the earth with Uquid gold. 
Fragrance from her flowers arise 
To her blue ethereal skies, 
And the glories of her dawn. 
Bless with beauty, ere they 're gone. 
And the splendor of the scene 
At the sunset intervene, 
While the earth she strews with flowers- 
Building gorgeous leafy bowers. 
Thou art welcome, gentle May, 
Come, forever with us stay! 
May 5, 1888. 

321 



THE BROKEN LINK 

{My hrother^s recent death was the first among the 
seven brothers of the family.) 

A chain of gold with seven links 

Encircled life's sweet token — 
'Twas ever friendship's sacred bond — 

''But now one link is broken." 

In youthful days this chain was felt 

As firm as timbers oaken, 
Each link was ever poHshed bright — 

"But now one link is broken." 

And then in manhood's strength and zeal 

Its charm was often spoken, 
And held in concord seven hearts — 

''But now one link is broken." 

But now come Age with silver locks. 
Life's course doth sure betoken — 

The chain grows shorter link by link, 
Till all the links are broken. 

July 31, 1888. 



322 



THREE-SCORE YEARS 

August 4, 1888. 
To-day I've reached my three-score years 

In life's eventful course — 
The rise and fall of hopes and fears 

Have felt with all their force. 

As backward now I turn my gaze, 

In retrospection cast, 
It seems to me few idle days 

In all those years have passed. 

The oldest of my father's sons, 

The burdens fell on me, 
As business in a household runs 

Beneath the ''family tree." 

My youthful years, in labor spent, 

Were years of rugged life, 
Though ever blessed with sweet content 

Amid surrounding strife. 

My schoolboy days were few indeed, 

But learning grew apace, 
And thus filled out my humble need 

With quite becoming grace. 

And like the thoughtful Grecian sage, 

A student I have been 
From early youth to ripe old age, 

Amid the world's wild din. 

323 



Was born with hunger for the lore 
Contained in volumes new — 

Was ever thirsty yet for more 
Of knowledge deep and true. 

And thus my life has been a school 
With lessons deep and grand, 

Not learned beneath a tutor's rule, 
But at my own command. 

And learning must ennoble man, 
Pursued through rolling years. 

He learns the laws of life to scan; 
Their wisdom then appears. 

The frost of years is on my brow, 

Yet I eagerly pursue 
New themes of thought reviving now 

Within my mental view. 

Two generations quick have passed 

Since first I oped my eyes, 
And beams of knowledge now are cast 

That dazzle with surprise. 

And Progress on her shining car 

Is moving like the Hght, 
And watched by nations like a star 

To guide them through the night. 

324 



And Empires rise within a day 

To grandeur and renown, 
Where Hght and learning lead the way 

And Freedom wears the crown. 

And thought is free as eagle's flight 
That sweeps the ether through, 

And Science pours her radiant hght 
On all her children true. 

The depths of being most profound 
Are swayed by a swelling tide. 

And human effort now is crowned. 
And hope is glorified. 

The realms of nature, wide and grand. 

The quick and fertile field. 
The earth and sky, and sea and land. 

Their richest treasures yield. 

And on the mountain tops of life, 
Where oft was fear and dread. 

The angels come and soothe our strife 
And light the paths we tread. 

And life is sweet and full of hope. 
And Death a welcome friend. 

Beyond whose door is boundless scope 
And fruition ne'er to end! 

325 



Much good has come to bless the world, 

Since first my days began — 
Much wrong and ruth from earth been hurled 

That marred life's wondrous plan. 

Full many a foul and loathsome blot 

From life 's been swept away — 
Full many a dark and damning plot 

Has fled the light of day. 

I 've lived to see the sun of hope, 

Ascendant in the sky, 
As swiftly down life's sunset slope, 

My waning orb doth fly. 

My days are fleeing swiftly past, 

As down life's course I speed. 
Where health and strength must fade at last, 

For fate has so decreed. 

But while my sun is in the sky, 
. My efforts still shall be 
To raise life's aims from earth so high. 
That all who grope may see. 

And gHding down the stream of time 

Towards the final close. 
May live to see sweet hope sublime 

Triumphant o'er her foes. 
326 



Thus three score years have come and gone, 

And left my spirit light, 
While eagerly I journey on 

Where hopes are beaming bright. 
March 21, 1889. 

WELCOME 

Addressed to the Manteno Independent after a period 
0} suspended animation. 

Welcome! welcome! joyful strain! 

Welcome to our homes again 1 

Welcome is thy smiling face — 

We're glad again thy lines to trace, 

For we thought the winter's breath 

Had pierced thy heart and caused thy death. 

But once more this friend of ours 

Comes smiling with the early flowers. 

And bringing joy to all our hearts 

With tidings from the adjacent parts. 

We're glad to see thy pages clear 

And hear thy tidings of good cheer. 

And be assured that every week 

Thou 'It come in friendliness to speak. 

But unto all would wish to say. 

Don't neglect your mite to pay — 

Unless we pay we'll nought obtain. 

For nought will bring us nought again; 

The price of worth is never high. 

But must be paid, or soon 'twill fly. 

March 24, 1889. 

327 



THE CRIMES OF EARTH 

The orb of day in splendor bright 

Is gazing evermore 
Upon the earth whose genial light 

He gives from out his store; 

And in this light he thus beholds 

The crimes of wicked men, 
Discerns each plot as it unfolds 

Beneath his searching ken. 

The most appaUing crimes of earth 

That darken human life, 
He sees the instant of their birth. 

Amid the fiercest strife. 

He saw poor Cain his brother slay, 

The first of human crimes. 
And sore hearts crushed with wild dismay 

Amid those sunny climes. 

Saw David take Uriah^s wife, 

The man of righteous soul, 
Uriah doomed to give his life 

Amid the battle's roll. 

Saw innocence and virtue slain 

By men of brutal taste. 
And cities sacked for cruel gain, 

And all the land laid waste. 
328 



Saw Jesus nailed upon the cross 

Above the ribald jest, 
And not a friend to mourn his loss, 

Or soothe his heaving breast. 

And then again in later years 

Beheld a CatiHne, 
Whose soul was stained with blood and tears 

And deeds of dark design: 

The Borgias too he gazed upon 

Who came with fetid breath, 
With plots and poisons leading on 

The ghastly train of death. 

Saw Nero come upon the stage 

With crimes of burning shame. 
To close the scene of a wicked age 

That execrates his name. 

Saw Fawkes come forth with black intent, 

With powder to destroy 
The king and all his parhament, 

And blot out human joy. 

The butchery of Bartholomew 

He saw with placid mien — 
The flames of the Inquisition, too, 

Ten thousand times hath seen. 

329 



Saw witches burned and Quakers hung, 
With calm, unaltered brow — 

Saw virtue by vile slander stung, 
And worth to baseness bow. 

The pen of Andersonville he saw. 

But lost all human trace — 
For human needs and human law 

Were mocked with dire disgrace. 

He then beheld a fouler crime, 

Of fiendish dark intent — 
He saw one slain of life sublime, 

The Martyred President. 

All this the golden sun hath seen 

With undiminished ray. 
And onward kept his course serene 

Along the heavenly way. 

Yet when he saw a freeman sell 

A freeman's sacred vote. 
His face with furrows dark did swell. 

His breast with fury smote; 

But when he saw the man who bought 
The freeman's proudest right, 

A place of refuge quick he sought 
'Mid realms of blackest night. 

April 20, 1889. 

The practice of buying votes is enough to " shame 
the shining sun." 

330 



THE RAIN ON THE ROOF 

The rain on the roof makes a lullaby sound 
And all the night long does its music resound, 
As I lay on my pillow and listen and think, 
How gladly the flowers the pearly drops drink. 
How sweetly the grass in the meadows doth feel, 
As softly the drops in its bosom do steal — 
The leaves on the trees are drinking with joy 
In fullness the beverage that does not destroy. 
I sadly reflect on the hot dusty hours 
When seared was the meadows, and withered the 

flowers, 
The sky was a furnace, all fervent with heat — 
No coolness nor moisture had earth at our feet. 
And many the weeks and the months that passed by. 
No clouds to protect from the sun in the sky. 
While man of the earth, and the beast of the plain 
Were longing indeed for the soft summer rain. 
But now it has come in its fullness complete 
And soothes me to rest with its lullaby sweet. 
And thus I rejoice in the gladness it brings — 
My heart with its music in harmony sings. 
June 19, 1889. 



331 



OPTIMISM 

A CONTRAST 

Through all the boundless realms of Nature's wide 

domain 
Does one eternal thought of power and goodness 

reign. 
This law is over all, in every form of life, 
Within the peaceful shade, or 'mid consuming 

strife ; 
For Wisdom's golden sun makes radiant thro' the 

spheres 
Every mote of being through all the countless 

years. 
Thus goodness unto all is infinite and sublime — 
In all, over all, through all, in boundless space and 

time. 

hope's sweet song 
Within the optimistic soul 
Where hope immortal builds her throne. 
And reigns in regal splendor there. 
No blighting fear is ever known. 
But smiling Peace and sweet Content 
Give all the air a rich perfume. 
That soothes the feverish pulse of care. 
Like fragrant flowers, of fadeless bloom. 

Forever and forevermore 

Do Hope's bright pinions fan the air. 

And love and purity and rest 

Are pictured on those pinions fair, 

332 



For he who knows that all is well, 
Has naught of fear to feel, nor dread — 
His days are all serene and bright, 
His nights by fairest visions fed. 

He knows that when the storms of earth 

Leave desolation in their train, 

And storms of rage crush human hearts. 

And human life seems all in vain — 

That storms but cleanse the world's dark face 

And leave a sweeter air for all — 

That passion serves to burn the dross 

That hfe may rise above its thrall. 

He knows throughout the realms of space 
No breath of life can e'er be lost, 
And every day's a feast of good, 
Howe'er the winds his bark have tossed; 
And happy in the conscious thought — 
Whate'er betide in life's long day, 
No evil shade can long bedim 
The brightness of the Golden Way. 

despair's deep wail 

A hopeless pessimist appears 
Who drags his weary life along, 
And nought but evil does he see — 
A wail of woe his only song — 

333 



Sees nought but darkness round the world, 
And evil haunts him day and night. 
His soul is fed on black despair, 
And waihng is a pure deHght. 

Sees evil omens in the sky, 

And gluts himself on doubts and fears — 

**A lion's ever in the way — " 

Goes growling through the gloomy years. 

He gloats o'er accidents, and looks 

To horrors for a rich repast, 

And feasts on scandal's poisoned breath, 

And gathers good from evils passed. 

He turns all sweetness into gall — 

All sunshine into thickest gloom. 

Is sadly harping every hour 

Of awful fate, and coming doom; 

Is envious and jealous, too. 

Of every breeze that passes by — 

His mis'ry is his greatest joy. 

But thinks each moment he must die. 

He gleans from life all bitter things. 
And swallows all with gormand greed — 
He drinks the dregs that others leave. 
For life's pure wine he does not need; 
But fats on miasmatic filth 
Amid the depths of foulest air, — 
And hapless, hopeless, through the world 
Goes cringing 'neath his load of care. 
July 25, 1889. 

334 



THREE MAIDENS FAIR 

Three maidens on a summer's eve 
Walked forth to take the air, 

And one was tall, and two were blondes. 
And all exceeding fair. 

Like queens of grace they walked along 

At twilight's witching hour, 
Just when the gloaming is endowed 

With all its magic power. 

I met them in a narrow lane — 
I scanned them o'er and o'er, 

And blushed to see such loveliness 
On this world's stormy shore. 

At first I thought them spirits fair 
From out the realms of bliss, 

Who sometimes come on errands sweet 
From their bright world to this. 

Like Faith and Charity and Hope, 

Were walking side by side, 
With heads uncovered to the breeze 

And tresses flowing wide. 

They greeted me in accents sweet. 

With modesty and grace. 
While smiles of purity and peace 

En wreathed each lovely face. 

335 



It was a vision bright and rare 
That few on earth have seen, 

And leaves a halo of delight 
Around the soul serene. 

Fair maidens! may this world of strife, 
With life's unbending care, 

Forever leave you just as free, 
With faces just as fair. 
August 4, 1889. 

THE SAW -MILL OF THE ANCIENT 
WOOD 

'Twas on a bright September morn — 
A russet hue the woods adorns. 
And all the world was like a dream, 
As lone I strayed beside a stream 
That rattled o'er its rocky bed. 
Above by crystal fountains fed. 
Its weird-like music soft and clear 
Fell gently on my anxious ear. 
When suddenly before me stood 
The saw-mill of the ancient wood. 

This ancient saw-mill, quaint and queer, 
Has stood here many and many a year; 
Its timbers huge, decayed and brown. 
Stand where the waters tumble down; 
Its monstrous wheel, so gray and grim, 

336 



Which turned with water on its rim, 
Is resting from its labors long, 
No more to move like a giant strong. 
The flume is dry where once did flow 
The waters on the wheel below. 

Its saw is silent evermore. 

With rust is being coated o'er; 

Its dam of stone, a high thick wall, 

Stands firm as though it ne'er would fall. 

The stream flows o'er, in a trembling sheet. 

To the rocks below, full twenty feet, 

And ever on to the river wide 

Between gray walls doth swiftly glide, 
Then on and on, so wild and free. 
It sweeps along to the roaring sea. 

This saw-mill was a pioneer 
When Red Men filled the White with fear. 
When elk and deer stalked o'er the plain, 
And bisons, by the hunters slain. 
The boards for cradles here were made, 
Wherein the new-born babes were laid; 
The boards for coflins, too, suppHed, 
Whene'er our rude forefathers died. 
This uncouth saw-mill of the wood 
Has long the waste of Time withstood. 
Oct. 6, iJ 



337 



THE LIGHT OF HOPE 

When all the world is weary, 

And darkness reigns around, 
And life is dull and dreary, 

No ray of comfort found, 
And clouds shut out the glory 

Of warm and tinted skies. 
Fierce winds repeat their story. 

And storms of fury rise. 



And all seems lost and buried 

Beneath a mountain's weight. 
And ranks so dense and serried 

Go down to meet their fate, 
And waters rise before us, 

That threaten all with death. 
The billows rolling o'er us. 

And gone is life and breath — 

Then light comes downward streaming 

From Hope's refulgent eyes. 
Beyond our fondest dreaming, 

And lights our lurid skies. 
The winds have ceased their wailing. 

The waves have gone to sleep. 
And clouds no longer saihng 

In anger o'er the deep. 

338 



And thus do Hope's evangels 

Bring peace and glory down, 
Bright bands of shining angels 

Who all with goodness crown, 
That makes our lives worth living 

And lights our pathway clear, 
And brings the sweet forgiving 

That fills our souls with cheer. 
Oct. 28, 1889. 

THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES 
From the high lands and the low 
Now has gone the winter snow — 
On the mountain and the plain. 
Now has fell the spring-time rain — 
Now the valley and the glen, 
Ring with gladness once again. 
Through the forest wide and long 
Now are heard the birds of song. 
O'er the prairie, through the grove, 
Singing sweetly songs of love. 
And the buds so sweet and fair 
Now are springing everywhere. 
Sending forth their balmy breath 
From their last year's beds of death. 
Myriads now, and myriads more. 
Soon will deck the landscape o'er. 
And the earth be robed in green, 
Like a fairy Summer Queen. 

339 



Now the tender leaves appear, 
Come to crown the growing year, 
And the beauty they express 
Fills the world with happiness; 
And the uses they employ. 
Fill the hearts of all with joy, 
And unnumbered blessings spring 
From the bright leaves as they cling. 
And there's goodness done to all 
When the faded leaflets fall. 
Shady bowers — ^beds of ease. 
Found beneath the leafy trees — 
Shelter from the scorching sun 
Where his fiercest work is done; 
Shelter from the winter's blast 
Where his icy breath is cast, 
Thus forever doing good 
To the mighty multitude. 

Sweetest music ever made 
By the birds beneath their shade; 
There their plighted vows are said. 
There their tender hearts are wed, 
There their birdhngs in the nest 
Fondle 'neath their mother's breast. 
There they first essay to fly 
Where the tender leaves are nigh. 
There they join their matin lays. 
At the dawning's early rays, 

340 



And at evening's twilight hour 
Rest beneath their leafy bower. 
All the lonely night endure 
Here, from driving winds secure. 

And the Fairies in their bowers 
Watch and wait the dawning hours, 
And when comes the light of day, 
Sing and dance the hours away, 
Resting all the midday through 
Where the leaves are bright to view; 
Then when evening tints appear, 
Come again with sweetest cheer, 
For the Sprites and Elfins fair 
Chase away the shades of care. 
And their home among the leaves 
Rings with music summer eve's; 
And again when leaves are brown. 
And are gently rustling down 
In the Autumn of the year. 
When the air is soft and clear, 
Then we hear their merry laugh. 
As like nectar sweet they quaff; 
All the golden beauty there 
Floating on the Autumn air; 
For the leaves must fall to earth. 
Or there '11 be no Spring-time birth. 

341 



And the whisperings of the breeze 
Through the leafy host of trees 
Bring a sense of purest love, 
Like the voices from above 
That descend to mortal ears, 
Bringing hope, for doubts and fears. 
And the tides of Hfe and death 
Of the leaves, with silent breath, 
Come and go forevermore, 
RolHng to that radiant shore 
Where the spirits born of light 
Rise above this earthly night. 
To enjoy the realms of bHss, 
Earned by duty done in this. 

Nov. lo, 1889. 



VOICES FROM THE MYSTIC SHORE 

Mankind has ever yearned to hear some sound 
From out the mystic depths of life beyond, 
Whence all his loved and lost have gone before, 
Some sound of hope and sweet assurance dear. 
Some voice to hft the burden of his heart, 
Some lips to speak the love of long ago. 
Far back along the misty course of time. 
Where man did dwell within those ancient days. 
His feeble mind with doubts and fears opprest. 
He faintly heard the whispered voice of hope, 

342 



That bridged the river dark that rolled between, 
And gave him peace within that darkened age, 
And then he knew that death could ne'er destroy 
The Hfe and love that once had warmed his heart. 
And knew that somewhere on that mystic shore 
Again he'd meet those dear ones loved and lost, 
And heart-strings severed once unite again. 
And thus life's burdens ever lighter grew. 
And death and doubt no longer weighed him down. 
But Hght and hope beamed on his pathway clear. 
And then again, in later years, the voice 
That speaks the words of hope to all mankind, 
Is clearer heard, upon the sunny heights. 
And many hsten to its tones of joy; 
While love and wisdom spread around the world. 
And light sprang up in many a desert place. 
And shrines were built where multitudes were bowed. 
To catch the heavenly strains of love's sweet song, 
That told of goodness poured on all the race. 
And life's dark page of future days was read, 
And Wisdom's light poured on, that all might see 
And shun the pitfalls in the darkness hid. 
And men grew stronger in their love of right. 
And then the edge of wanton strife was dulled. 
But soon an age passed by on fleeting wings. 
And man had grown in stature day by day; 
For now the light poured down from mountain 
heights, 

343 



And all the valleys glowed with love and life, 
All heard the voices from the other shore. 
Not voices only came, but forms appeared, 
Wrought from the aura of their waiting friends, 
And by this weird, strange chemistry of life 
Is given back once more the prattling babe, 
Whose mother long in grief had mourned it dead, 
But now o'erjoyed to find it in her arms. 
And know its life is happy, pure and good. 
The father, too, by deathless love inspired, 
With proper speech — in proper form arrayed, 
To bless his children left in mortal life. 
And prove himself by many a token sweet. 
And tender mothers from the realms of light. 
With hearts overflowing from the founts of bliss 
And from their warm, abysmal depths of love, 
Pour forth angelic strains of music sweet. 
To cheer and bless their loved ones left behind. 
And lighten all the dark abodes of time. 
And thus the voices from eternal height 
Leap down with joy to bless the sons of earth. 
No longer now does death's dark phantom rule 
And blight the souls of poor misguided men — 
Where fear and dread hung o'er them Uke a pall. 
And life one long embittered waste of woe. 
While death the ''King of Terrors," wild and dark. 
With scorpion stings filled all their gloomy days; 
Where Hope was dead, and life in darkness set, 

344 



And love afraid to speak, for fear of Fate 
Whose foul decree let none escape its doom. 
But now, instead, love's warm, refulgent beam 
Has pierced the darkest depths of doubt and fear. 
And hope's bright star is radiant in the sky; 
And Hfe assumes a brighter, sweeter caste; 
And earth itself more smooth and fertile grown, 
And all the air a gentler manner bears. 
The sun's soft rays are richer than before. 
And more the moon with beauty lights the skies, 
The blades of grass display a deeper green. 
And flowers, the sweet evangels dear of life. 
Spring up rejoicing, in the paths we tread. 
The frosts that fill the bitter air with cold 
Are milder than in days they erst were wont; 
Disease and pain seem lessened in their force, 
And want and famine less severe to bear; 
And all the ills that darken human life 
Forever now a burden lighter seem. 
For from the valleys dark of pain and woe 
We now behold the golden light beyond 
That bathes in glory all the mountain heights. 
And bears the balm of peace to every weary soul 
That mourns within the valleys dark below. 
And thus fruition from our Father's hand 
Sometime, somewhere 's bestowed on all the race. 
March 2, 1890. 



345 



GOOD WILL 

Oh! how December's waihng winds 

Come shrieking wild and drear! 
With snow and sleet upon their wings, 

Inspiring dread and fear, 

The trees that hung their banners out 

Upon the balmy air, 
When sunshine warmed the grateful earth, 

And all was bright and fair. 

Now tremble 'neath the angry surge 

Of winter's icy breath — 
The leaves that late in splendor hung. 

Have sought their beds of death. 

The flowers that breathe their peace and love 

On golden Summer days, 
And smile again so sweetly through 

The Autumn's veil of haze, 

Have withered at the touch of frost 

And perished long ago. 
And where their perfume rose so sweet. 

Lies deep the drifted snow. 

The birds that cheered the grove with song 

Have flown to warmer skies. 
And all the beauty of the wood 

Seems hid from human eyes. 

346 



And all the fury of the air 
Is spent in angry strife, 

And all the world seems filled with hate- 
No good in human life. 

Till dawns the radiant Christmas morn, 

Then love and light prevail. 
And gladness sweet an angel sings, 

And gone is winter's wail. 

And all the world seems filled with light- 

Good-will in every heart — 
The angel Love appears on earth. 

Her goodness to impart. 

While orange blooms and myrtle boughs 

Are twined o'er faces fair, 
And music greets the gladsome ear 
That pulsates through the air. 

And incense springs from glowing hearts. 

Embracing all the world, 
And hate and envy, erst so strong, 

To lower depths are hurled. 

And ice and snow and dreary cold 

Are feared and felt no more, 
For love has warmed the wintry world, 

And tempests wild are o'er. 

347 



And thus good -will to all the world, 
Are words of sweetest sound, 

And bring us peace and joy secure 
That nowhere else are found. 

Dec. II, 1889. 



THE INVITATION 

To Job Barnard, Washington, D. C. 

Come, brother and kin, leave the city's wild roar. 
We all would be happy to greet you once more — 
Come now while the air and the sunshine is clear — 
Come on sweet "May-day," the crown of the year! 



We think of your days 'mid the city's loud din. 
Of the strife and the struggles, life's baubles to win. 
Of the crowds, and the dust, and the stifling air. 
Of the pomp and the pride, and the cankering 
care. 



The dove and the robin and blackbirds galore 
Are singing their love songs close to our door — 
And the trees are now budding, and the flowers in 

bloom, 
And the smile of the spring-time has banished the 

gloom. 

348 



And the breeze is still blowing so fresh and so 

sweet, 
While the sunshine has dried up the mud in the 

street ; 
So come, brother, come, and enjoy these with your 

friends. 
That the Father of all so bountifully sends. 
April 27, 1890. 

THE LAND OF THE LONELY 

There's a land where the sun never shines, 
Where the gloom is so heavy and chill, 

Away down in the depths of the mines, 
Where cold damps do forever distill. 

Where the demon of darkness doth reign 

On his ebony throne of despair, 
And his subjects are driven insane 

By the torturing demons of care. 

'Tis the land of the lonely and sad, 

In the prison's unspeakable din, 
Where the wicked, unholy and bad 

Are confined by their good fellowmen. 

Where for something, or for nothing at all. 
They are doomed to this darkness and woe — 

Where for mercy they ever must call. 
And where none to them mercy will show. 

349 



In their dungeons most loathsome they live, 
And the sunshine ne'er lights their abode, 

And no angel of mercy can give 
A respite, nor lighten their load. 

And the world all the long ages through 
Has been deaf to their cries and their pain, 

And my heart bleeds to think this is true 
And to know that their tears fall in vain. 

And to see that no respite appears, 
As I gaze down the ages to come — 

But this land full of phantoms and fears. 
And its people with sorrow made dumb. 

Yet sweet Hope, that pure light of the soul. 
Does sometimes show a smile on her face. 

And somewhere, as the ages may roll, 
Man may yet be a friend to his race. 

Feb. 25, 1890. 



350 



THE LILIES OF LIFE 

The lilies that bloom in the gardens of life 
Are as pure as the breath of the morn, 

And their beauty embowers the bosom of strife, 
Ere the seeds of dissension are born. 

And their fragrance, as sweet as the odors that 
rise 

From the balm-laden isles of the seas, 
Is ascending as incense quite up to the skies, 

As an offering for pain and disease. 

While their mission of mercy to sorrow and woe 
Leads them on through the depths of distress, 

Where the faces so pale, and so sad, and so low. 
Ever turn but to smile and to bless. 

And these lihes so fair smile again in return. 

With a radiance angelic and sweet, 
For their love that is deathless, with fervor doth 
burn. 

And thus lights the'^dark ways for their feet. 

Where the war cloud has burst in its furious wrath, 
And great armies of brothers are slain — 

Where the shot and the shell destroy all in their 
path, 
And the wounded are writhing in pain — 

351 



It is here that these lilies of life are so fair, 
And their mercy like fragrance so sweet, 

As they smiling move on amid death and despair, 
With kind missions for all that they meet. 

Unto friend and to foe these good angels of life 
Give alike the sweet balm of reHef, 

Wheresoe'er they have fallen amid the hot strife, 
With their love, soothing anguish and grief. 

They perform the last rites for the lost who have 
died 

For their country, their homes, and their wives. 
And they bear their last messages far o'er the tide — 

Telling all how they gave up their lives. 

Where contagion's foul form bhghts the earth with 
its breath. 

And disease and distress cry aloud. 
And waihng and woe caused by sickness and death, 

Have so humbled the haughty and proud — 

There these sisters of charity, mercy and peace, 
Quick repair to the chambers of woe. 

And their labors of kindness and goodness ne'er 
cease. 
While in suffering a mortal lies low; 

352 



But, regardless of self and exposure incurred, 
They are watching the dying and dead. 

For with pity the depths of their being are stirred. 
And they know not of fear, nor of dread. 

For to mitigate pain do their hearts ever yearn, 
And they pour out their souls in good-will; 

Thus a Nightingale's love Hke a star must e'er burn, 
And a Barton's with grandeur must thrill. 

Feb. 1 6, 1890. 



OUR TWO BOYS 

Now our boys are two and four, 
Romping round upon the floor — 
Full of merry, joyous hfe. 
And of fun and laughter rife, 
Ever running here and there. 
Free from trouble, free from care — 
Building houses, running trains. 
Busy, busy, little brains. 
Now their caps and scarfs are on, 
To the sand pile they are gone, 
With their wagons there to play, 
Merry, merry, all the day; 
Loading sand or wood or blocks. 
Till is filled each wagon box. 
Then to haul and empty out. 
All with fun and ringing shout. 

353 



Then the two-year-old must ride, 
While his dog walks by his side, 
While the four-year-old plays horse, 
Ratthng on their joyous course. 
Then to Grandma they must run, 
Telling her of all their fun, 
Running to their Mamma too, 
Saying, ''Mamma, I love you." 
Each a joyous little sprite. 
Full of fun from mom till night. 
Save if one should chance to fall, 
Then is heard a little squall, 
But the sunshine through the tears, 
Instantly again appears. 
Thus their busy, Httle feet 
Now are passing childhood fleet. 
But they do not realize 
Yet how swiftly childhood flies. 
Oh! for childhood's joyous laugh. 
And its sinless sweets to quaff — 
For its tones of tender love. 
Gentle as the cooing dove, 
For its confidence and trust. 
Knowing nought of greed or lust. 
For the world so fresh and new 
'Tis most anxious now to view, 
And all objects now do seem 
Like visions in the wildest dream. 

354 



Now they climb on Grandpa's knee, 
"Grandpa, sing a song for me," 
While each little dimpled face 
Glows with love and sweetest grace. 
"Now, Grandpa, do sing another," 
"That for me, sing one for brother," 
And he sings them o'er and o'er. 
Yet they ever ask for more; 
Grandpa, too, is well repaid 
By the glee his songs have made. 
And his hope has ever been 
That they'll make the best of men. 
While the sunshine and the shade 
That upon all lives are laid. 
May not weigh their spirits down. 
Nor e'en dim Hfe's burnished crown; 
For he loves those laughing boys. 
Come to brighten all his joys. 
Dec. 12, 1890. 

Clarence and Ira Dole, whose father passed away, 
while they were yet of very tender age. 



355 



KEEP THE SPIRIT YOUNG 


When comes the raging storms of life, 


And man with man has cruel strife, 


And hatred like a tyrant reigns, 


And hearts defiled with foulest stains, 


And on the human face divine 


There sits a monster most maUgn, 


And souls been long with bitter anguish wrung. 


Then smile with hope and keep the spirit young. 


And when disease and pain and woe 


Have come and laid their victims low, 


And hope and Hght seem lost in grief. 


And day and night bring no relief — 


And sorrow's flood sweeps o'er the soul. 


Like maddened billows o'er it roll. 


And dark despair his mantle o'er us flung. 


Then smile with hope and keep the spirit young. 


When cares have like a deluge come 


With crushing weight, that left us dumb, 


And disappointments dark and dire 


Have blotted out each fond desire. 


And fortune failed, and friends are dead , 


And all our hopes Hke phantoms fled, 


And Fate our hearts with poisoned arrows stung, 


Then smile with hope and keep the spirit young. 


356 



When age has piled his winter snows 
Upon our heads, now bent with woes, 
And poverty, (relentless doom). 
Has led us to the yawning tomb. 
And nought is left but rags and pain. 
While briny tears pour down like rain — 
The songs of peace and joy no more are sung, 
Then smile with hope and keep the spirit young. 
Dec. 14, 1890. 



MEMORIES OF THE PAST 

Addressed to R. M. 

Now memory's golden pinions fair 
Turn backwards o'er this world of care. 
And we again behold our youth 
Adorned with innocence and truth. 

Those memories sweet that ever bring 
The freshness of the smiling Spring, 
The sweetness of the dewy morn. 
And soothe away all hate and scorn. 

And when in age we thus review 
Those early scenes, so dear and true. 
In childhood's bright and joyous days. 
Our souls respond with heavenly lays. 

357 



Thy age is ten-and-three-score years — 
Thy face shows sunshine more than tears, 
And peace and love have e'er kept pace 
Through all thy years of Ufe's long race. 

And memories of those years long past 
Have o'er thy Hfe a radiance cast, 
And kept thy spirit fresh and young. 
As childhood's lays thy heart hath sung. 

Thy life so grand, with soul so sweet. 
Must soon its labors here complete. 
But nothing can thy peace destroy — 
Thy soul 's attuned to love and joy. 

No gloom nor darkness long can shade 
The brightness that thy life has made. 
And in that land so pure and fair 
Thy husband waits thy coming there. 

My recollections, plain and clear. 
Of thy young hfe so bright appear, 
Thou wilt no doubt remember, too. 
When my young life to ten had grew, 

The Angel of Death stood by my side. 
And long his claim was since denied, 
But from my side at length took flight, 
Returning alone to the realms of light. 

358 



Full well do I remember now 
When sickness oft thy head did bow, 
And hngering long in weakness there, 
Yet hope forbade thy soul despair. 

And health returned with feeble pace, 
And patience smiled with placid grace, 
While all those years of toil and strife 
Were sweetened by the faithful wife. 

Thy children, now to manhood grown, 
Have traits resembling much thine own. 
And for their welfare have no fears, 
Their lives will bless thy waning years. 

No word of thine, nor deed nor thought, 
To mortal man has evil wrought, 
But lo ! the good deeds thou hast done. 
Sweet gladness for thy soul have won. 

And when the closing scene shall come 
And angels guide thy spirit home, 
Thy soul will glow with sweet surprise 
At the glories that will greet thine eyes. 

Dec. 26, 1890. 



359 



LINES ADDRESSED TO A. W. 
Prologue 
My fair young friend, as you request, 
These lines to you are now addressed; 
And first of all I wish to say 
Kind greetings on this New Year's day; 
And may good fortune follow thee, 
Howe'er the winds on Life's rough sea; 
And may thy Hfe, with love imbued, 
Be always spent in doing good. 



The world Hes wide before thee now. 

In many- tinted hues, 
With many an open pathway 

From which thy cause to choose. 

Choose well thy cause — let reason guide. 

In all thou hast to do; 
For care and pain may follow fast 

The path thou wilt pursue. 

Thy fair young Hfe 's as fresh as morn 

And blooming Hke the rose. 
But time may change thy rosy cheek 

And pile thy head with snows. 

Thy form erect, adorned with grace. 

Thy face, too fair for tears. 
May blanch before the coming storms, 

And bend with weight of years: 
360 



But keep thy spirit young and fresh, 

Whate'er thy life betide, 
And keep thy conscience free from blame. 

Thy heart from fooHsh pride, 

And unto everything that lives 

Forever have good-will, 
That all thy days may beam with love, 

And joy thy heart may fill. 

Thus life may be a blessed boon 

From childhood to old age. 
When Wisdom builds our "Temple Fair," 

And all our thoughts engage. 

Then when we reach the "Golden Shore," 

And find sweet peace and rest. 
We'll full fruition there obtain 
Forever with the blest. 
Jan. I, 1892. 



ANOTHER "LAST LEAF" 

When I entered last his door. 
He was sitting dreaming o'er 

Songs of old, 
How the years had come and gone 
And still left him cHnging on, 

As he'd told; 
361 



And I told him but the truth 
Of the song he sang in youth, 

When I said: 
"Now it seems that thou would'st be 
The last leaf upon the tree 

To be shed." 

Then he sadly smiled on me 
Saying : "There were only three 

Class-mates left 
On the day when last we met 
In loneliness and vain regret, 

Thus bereft!" 

Now with snow his head is white, 
And his work is finished quite 

For the race; 
While upon those winter days 
By his fireside's cheerful blaze 

Sits with grace. 

He, Hke Homer, in his prime 
Trod the measures most subhme, 

When he chose, 
While the people ponder o'er 
Treasured volumes of his lore 

Writ in prose. 
362 



Now his witty days are done, 
While one poem, wrote for fun. 

Ne'er was read — 
Sam, his servant, scanned its wit, 
And then "tumbled in a fit" 

On his head. 

But "the breeches" that he wore. 
He will see them nevermore. 

You '11 remember. 
How they flew up in the sky 
When the wind was blowing high. 

One September. 

While his sands are running fast 
Yet, for many days at last, 

Will he stay; 
For no "weakest spot" appears. 
And he'll live "a hundred years 

To a day." 
Jan. lo, 1891. 



363 



THE DAWN 

Through all the long dark ages of the past 
Has brooded darkness hke a pall of gloom, 
And ignorance like a monster huge and dire 
Has stalked about the earth in wanton rage, 
And trampled in the dust the fair of earth, 
And filled all life with fear and dread of death, 
And crushed out hope, that blossom of the soul, 
Thus leaving manhood a dwarfed and stunted 

thing. 
For aspiration slunk away and hid, 
And lamentation loud was heard around. 
For death strode into every household fair 
And bore away, with fiendish joy, the good 
Of earth, without one ray of light or hope, 
And left their friends in anguish unconfined. 

And thus long ages came and passed away, 
No orb appeared to shed its ray on earth. 
But now at length a star approached our sphere, 
Drawn hither by the want and cry for light. 
But yet no gleam lit up the lurid skies, 
For Darkness spread his raven plumage o'er all. 
When suddenly along the eastern bound. 
Upon the highest mountain peaks appeared 
The glorious light of life and love and joy. 
The dawn lit up the inky skies at last. 
The star of hope arose to Hght the scene. 

364 



And some rejoiced to see this dawning light 
That shed upon their destiny rays so clear, 
And some, so self-deceived they would not see, 
Cried out, "It is the evil one appears!" 
So long the darkness had beguiled their sight 
And some did tremble much with baseless fear, 
That light would show them in their colors true. 
And thus for aye would lose their power and place. 
The light now spread all down the mountain side. 
The good and v/ise did drink it in with joy. 
And prophesied a day of grandest things, 
That all would sometime learn to see the good 
And know the priceless value of the gift, 
Bestowed on all from brightest spheres above, 
And by the hands of Love and Goodness sent. 



Now four-and-forty years have passed away. 
Since that auspicious day was ushered in 
That dawned in glory sweetly on us then, 
And lighted up the dark abodes of man. 
Its golden splendor now surrounds the earth, 
And every tongue of all the race is blest 
With higher thoughts from wisdom's sacred fount, 
And knowledge like the ocean's mighty waves 
Is poured around where erst did darkness reign; 
And destiny is proved to be a boon 
That lifts the souls of all to purest heights, 

365 



Where peace and love and joy forever dwell. 
Not only those who walk in wisdom's ways 
But those who wander in forbividen paths, 
The dupes and slaves of superstition's wiles — 
The blinded bigot — all that selfish horde 
Are lifted higher o'er their erring ways 
In spite of all their strife and disbelief 
That makes them strike the hand stretched out to 

save. 
And thus the golden stream from spheres sublime 
Will ever pour its blessings on the race, 
Till life's last day sinks 'neath the waves of Time- 
March 17, 1892. 

FAIR HASLETT PARK 

I came a stranger to thy bowers, 
And rested 'neath thy sylvan shades, 
Where time flew past on angel's vdngs — 
But memory's tablet never fades; 
For lo ! thy scenes are graven there 
As pictures cut in marble stone, 
For yet I see thy smiling throngs 
As erst the pleasing view was shown. 

Fair Haslett Park ! thy temples grand 
Are sacred to the realms of light — 
Like Delphi in the ancient days 
Where man oft came to learn the right — 
366 



Where light descends in radiance sweet 
That fills with joy the waiting soul, 
And voices speak in love's sweet tone 
With benedictions o'er the whole. 



The waters of thy placid lake 
Are peaceful as the summer dawn, 
Thy leafy bowers are cool and sweet, 
And soft and green thy velvet lawn. 
I came a stranger to thy scenes, 
But, welcome, made a home complete 
Where kind and gracious friends were found 
Who blest me with their converse sweet. 

And thus our Hves are blest with hope 
Where'er good-will and love abound. 
And grateful is my joyous heart 
To all the good, kind friends I found. 
For friendship blesses all who deem 
It worthy of their time or thought. 
And by it in the woof of life 
The golden threads of love are wrought. 

And may thy shades in coming years 
Be filled with other joyous throngs. 
And all thy woodland alcoves ring 
With other joyous, happy songs — 

367 



And may good angels ever watch 
Around those friends where'er they roam, 
And when the waves of Time are spent 
Receive them in their bhssful home. 
Aug. 17, 1892. 

HOME AT LAST 

Now I 've crossed the harbor bar, 
O'er the waves I 've wandered far, 
But my home 's my guiding star, 

I 'm home at last: 
O'er the world I 've wandered long. 
When my boat was light and strong, 
Dangers thick did round me throng 

Amid the roaring blast. 

Chorus : 

Amid the roaring blast, 
Amid the roaring blast. 
Now I'm home, no more I'll roam 
Amid the roaring blast. 

Oh ! I've been a wanderer free 
Over land and over sea. 
None to love or care for me, 

Now I '11 roam no more — 
I have rode the breakers wild — 
By these sirens been beguiled — 
Roaming free as nature's child, 

Now I '11 rest on shore. 

368 



Chorus : 

Now I '11 rest on shore, 

Now I '11 rest on shore 

Free from fear, with friends so dear, 

Now I '11 rest on shore. 

Home is all the world to me, 
With my darlings on my knee. 
I 'm as happy as can be, 

Love makes all things bright. 
Oh ! could all this world of care 
Come and taste the joys I share! 
Peace and comfort everywhere. 

Round our hearth to-night! 

Chorus : 

Round our hearth to-night, 
Round our hearth to-night, 
Peace so sweet, joys complete. 
Round our hearth to-night. 
Aug. 23, 1891. 



369 



THE COOK-BOOK 


When the morning sun is seen 


In his wealth of golden sheen — 


When he mounts the mid-day sky 


And his beams in splendor fly — 
And again when hanging low 
In the evening's crimson glow — 
Then I'm sure you'll both agree 
In your wish and love for me: 


For — 


"We may Hve without poetry, music and art; 
We may hve without conscience, and live without 
heart; 


We may hve without friends; we may hve with- 
out books; 


But civihzed man cannot live without cooks. 


He may hve without books, — what is knowledge 

but grieving ? 
He may hve without hope, — what is hope but 

deceiving ? 
He may hve without love, — what is passion but 

pining ? 
But where is the man that can hve without dining ?'* 


And — 


You '11 remember, I 'm no book, 


I 'm director of the cook. 


To my nephew and niece, Mr. and Mrs. Ralph P. 
Barnard. 


Aug. 24, 1892. 


370 



THE COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION 

Arise ye nations of the earth, 

Forget your narrow creeds, 
And clad in regal robes of light 

Prepare for noble deeds! 

The sun of Freedom 's in the sky. 

And from Columbia's face 
Is beaming forth the hght of love, 

In all its winning grace. 

With richest bales of merchandize 

And shoicest works of art 
Load down your ships of the ocean wide. 

And from your shores depart; 

We '11 meet you with fraternal zeal 
Beneath our gleaming skies — 

Engage you in a friendly strife 
To win each worthy prize. 

Here on the shores of Michigan, 
'Neath temples grand and vast. 

We '11 solve the problem of the race 
That's darkened all the past. 

We '11 place the glittering prize in view, 
That all who wish may scan 

And realize this last grand hope, 
The brotherhood oj man. 
Nov. 12, 1891. 

371 



CORA DEAN 

When the Summer days were long 
And the groves were sweet with song 
When the roses everywhere 
Filled with fragrance all the air — 
When the air was soft and clear, 
While joy crowned the growing year- 
Then a mansion clad in flowers 
Smiled amid her leafy bowers. 
Here a wealth of vines and trees 
Are arranged the eye to please, 
And within are works of art 
Well designed to please the heart. 
Here a home is blest with love, 
Sweet as heaven's from above — 
Here a family, one and all, 
Ever move at duty's call — 
Here the angels smile to see 
Such a lovely "family tree." 

Here a maiden, (eldest child), 
With a nature sweet and mild, 
Dwelt amid this fairy scene, 
Known as lovely Cora Dean. 
Rare and radiant maiden she. 
Fairest on the "family tree!" 
And this glorious day in June 
It would seem has come too soon. 

372 



'Tis the fairest ever seen 

And leaves the maiden "sweet sixteen," 

And a feast she would prepare 

That her friends must come and share, 

And her parents gladly aid 

All the efforts of the maid. 

That her natal day may be 

Blest with mirth and festive glee. 

Now a joyful day is past. 
For such pleasures cannot last, 
And the morrow soon will bring 
Anguish that her heart will wring. 
By her father's stern decree 
She her lover could not see, 
He 's forbid to enter there 
Or their festive joys to share. 
But at evening's witching hour 
She met him in the trysting bower. 
When this fact her father knew. 
His anger Hke a rocket flew; 
He rudely turned her from his door, 
Forbidding her to enter more, 
And poor Cora's heart must grieve 
Thus her home and friends to leave- 
But she leaves that long sad day 
To pursue her thorny way. 
Over hill-top, over plain, 

373 



While her tears pour down like rain. 
Sad and lone she wanders on, 
Till three days have come and gone, 
Searching for a servant's place 
With her blanched and tearful face, 
'Till at length she enters where 
She a servants' toil must bear 
From the hours of early morn 
'Till night's long sad hours forlorn. 
But her heart is brave and strong, 
Though bereft of joy and song. 

Cruel father, thus to blight 
Thy fair daughter's Hfe so bright! 
For against the moral sense 
She's committed no offense. 
He was worthy of her love, 
She would ever faithful prove. 
And thy prejudice unwise 
Was the fruit of wicked lies, 
That his father may have told 
In the long, dark days of old. 
When the candidates divide 
Friends that should in love abide. 

Sore her mother's heart doth bleed. 
When she thinks of Cora's need. 
Many a sleepless night is spent 
Since her darhng's banishment. 

374 



Her lover, too, with anguish riven, 
Seems almost to madness driven. 
Then a fever's scorching breath 
Brings him near the verge of death 
Where he lingers long and low. 
With hfe's currents moving slow. 
Weary nights and restless days, 
Wasting on his couch he lays. 
While delirium's troubled dream 
Makes his life a desert seem. 
But at length the "boatman" came. 
Found him murmuring Cora's name, 
Then his spirit took its flight 
To the realms so pure and bright. 

Years have come and passed away, 

Still Cora 's toihng day by day 

To sustain the vital breath 

And keep at bay the mask of death. 

Whispering angels cheer her Hfe — 

Give her strength for daily strife — 

Give her hope amid the gloom 

That flowers yet in her heart will bloom. 

She 's kept courage — hid her grief, 

And many tears have given relief; 

In her dreams she sees once more 

A happy group at her father's door, 

And hears a whisper soft and plain 

375 



That she '11 see her home again. 
For the Christmas, joyful day, 
Is coming now without delay. 
While her father now relents 
Of his rashness, sore repents. 
Brings Cora to a Christmas feast 
Where all hearts with love are blest. 
For good-will now reigns supreme, 
A gift of Christmas it must seem. 
Dec. 3, 1891. 



THE WANDERER. 

Two parents fond in peace did dwell. 

Their joy an only child. 
And then their lives were blest with hope. 

Their skies were blue and mild. 

For fortune filled their coffers full — 

Their son, a youth of ten. 
Gave promise in those early years 

To rise 'bove common men. 

The sunshine fell in golden streams 

Around their peaceful home. 
Contentment smiled on every face. 

Where none e'er cared to roam. 

376 



The birds sang tender notes of love 
That filled their lives with joy, 

And many prayers to heaven arose 
To "bless our darling boy." 

This model home has all the charms 
That heart could e'er desire, 

Of culture, music, art and books, 
And love's immortal fire, 

Which leaves a halo round the brows 

Of all who enter there, 
A fragrance Uke the rarest sweet 

Enriching all the air. 

But life is short, and time is long. 

And changes ever come 
In which misfortunes dire appall — 

The best are stricken dumb. 

And ere his first-and-twentieth year 

The son has restive grown. 
And wishes now to travel far 

Around the world alone. 

But never has he spoken yet 

To any mortal man — 
Nor aught divulged by thought or deed 

This wild and wandering plan. 

377 



He^s fondly dreaming night and day 

About the world so wide, 
And longs to traverse oceans vast, 

On rivers long to ride. 

His home that once was dear and sweet 
And filled his soul with joy, 

Has vanished like the mists of morn, 
Nor doth his thoughts employ. 

A spirit wild has seized his soul, 

He yields to its command. 
At once resolves to quit his home. 

And sail the oceans grand. 

The morning's clear and radiant light 

In glory's beaming down. 
And gilding all the mountain tops — 

They wear a golden crown. 

The parents from their slumbers rise 
And view the enchanting scene. 

And breathe the rich, ambrosial air 
With nought their hearts between. 

Their souls o'erflow with joy supreme, 
Their home, so pure and bright — 

Unbounded love is felt for all. 
With exquisite delight. 
378 



When lo ! they miss their darling son; 

They search the household round — 
Their hearts sink down Hke icy lead — 

He 's nowhere to be found. 

They search all o'er the house again, 
They search the lanes and fields, 

They search the town, they search the streets, 
The search no comfort yields. 

He's gone and left no word nor sign 

Betraying his intent. 
He took his clothing from his room. 

Which shows them how he went. 

And thus the happy golden morn 
Has changed to thickest gloom — 

Their joyous words to briny tears. 
How sad and dark their doom ! 

They think he lives, but why should he 

Their kindness thus repay? 
And why should he, their "dading boy," 

Their trust and hope betray? 

Ungrateful thus he seems to them, 

To cause such pain and grief, 
And darken all their future lives — 

No hope to give relief. 

379 



Although he 's left them lone and sad, 

His absence they deplore, 
He's ten-fold more their "darling boy," 

They love him still the more. 

The search goes on the country round, 
And sleepless nights are spent. 

But searching 's mocked by floods of tears. 
For fate will not relent. 

They search in lands beyond the seas. 

In islands far away. 
They search in cities grand and strange. 

The rivers of Cathay. 

They search the ships that sail the seas. 

They search in forests old, 
They search the mountains snowy heights. 

In caverns dark and cold. 

But vain their quest, no trace nor sign 

Rewards their weary pains. 
Till now of all their fortune vast 

There 's httle that remains. 

Their fortune and their strength is gone. 

They're feeble now and poor. 
And all they have must soon be sold — 

Then to the poor-house door. 

380 



A decade 's passed since they began 
Their search so long and vain, 

And still they think their ''darling boy" 
Will come to them again, 

For never have they lost their faith. 

His steps he '11 yet retrace. 
And in the visions of the night 

They oft behold his face. 

The day has come when all must go — 

The auctioneer 's at hand, 
Tomorrow 's Christmas, when they '11 have 

No houses, goods, or land. 

The sale begins, a stranger 's there 
Who buys the first thing sold. 

And then the next, and all indeed 
With bidding high and bold. 

The hour arrives when he must pay 

For all that he has bought, 
He pays his gold, his mother then 

First knows the son they 've sought, 

And thus the wanderer does return 

With fame and gold in store. 
To bless his long-neglected ones 

And leave them nevermore. 
381 



And Christmas day was bright with joy, 

Their son and home restored, 
The parents then with swelling hearts 

Their wandering son adored; 

He Hved to bless them day by day, 

They lived to thus enjoy — 
And ever in their heart-of-hearts 

They bless their "darling boy." 

And as their lives ghde smoothly on 

To sunset's golden ray, 
They cherish with the fondest joy 
That golden Christmas day, 
Dec. lo, 1892. 

TIME'S MYSTIC MEASURE. 

Forever and forever does Time's ''mystic meas- 
ure " roll. 

And thus must ever measure all things, all things 
but the soul. 

The soul's far-off beginnings unknown to sense or 
time, 

Its glorious destination, the heights of life sub- 
lime. 

Is endless in duration, beginningless the same, 

A spark of being ever joined with the eternal 
flame. 

382 



Full many a thing there is to be gauged by time 

and space, 
For everything in nature seems just fitted to its 

place. 
All things come in season — all things come most 

opportune, 
Nothing ever comes too tardy — nothing ever comes 

too soon; 
But all proceed in order, from tiny mote to mighty 

sun, 
And all must keep their time and place, as round 

and round they run. 
And unto each and all doth Time allot the 

proper gauge. 
To some a moment only, to some a lingering 

age. 
She holds the ''scales of justice" to all who've 

lived or died. 
And none have cause to murmur, for none she's 

e'er denied. 
She's mother of all the living, builder of all 

that stands. 
Destroyer of all that's fallen, all must move at 

her commands. 
And thus her "mystic measure " through all 

things ever winds. 
On this earthly side of being all earthly things 

she binds ; 

383 



She loosens all from thraldom, unfetters all that's 

bound, 
But leaves the soul in freedom, its source and end 

unfound. 
Dec. 20, 1892. 

MY RURAL HOME 

Long years ago in life's young day. 

When hope's refulgent beam 
Was shining o'er the rugged way 

Of Hf e 's meandering stream — 

Where health and strength were blooming fair, 

And pulses bounding high. 
And heart and mind unbent by care — 

Glad sunshine in the sky — 

Just here was born a fond desire 

To own a piece of ground 
Where I could light my hearth-stone fire. 

With smiUng plenty 'round. 

Upheld by hope and strength and health. 

Restrained my love to roam. 
Gave up desire for hoarded wealth. 

And sought to build a home, 

384 



By years of toil and care and strife 
To crown with sweet success 

The darling object of my life — 
Declining years to bless. 

A site was found where breezes free 
Swept o'er a prairie wide, 

'Mid waving grasses like a sea — 
And flowers on every side; 

Where nature in a lavish mood 

A fertile soil had stored, 
And Earth in all her plenitude, 

Could luscious fruits afford. 

'Twas here amid the flowers of May 
My household gods I brought — 

Began upon that sunny day. 
The home I fondly sought. 

And day by day, and year by year, 
I strove with might and main 

To build this rural home so dear — 
My life-work to attain. 

I planted trees and shrubs and vines 
Around my dwelHng-place, 

I planted hedges on the lines, 
Enclosing all the space; 

385 



Through summer's heat and winter's cold 

Pursued with ceaseless care 
The object that so dear I hold — 

My rural home so fair. 

I prospered, and when years had flown, 

A mansion fair uprose, 
A comfort that we ne'er had known 

Since this dear spot we chose; 

Where ample porches wide and grand, 

With balustrades around. 
Where steps and stately columns stand 

And flowering vines abound — 

Where spacious chambers, broad and fair 
Where love and light are free, 

In which the heart can rest from care 
And sordid cravings flee. 

A place where every sense of home 

Affords the sweetest rest — 
A place, from which if e'er I roam 

Return to find the best; 

Where every object I behold 

Is one of interest rare — 
Where lovely flowers their sweets unfold 

And shed their petals there. 
386 



A fruitful garden's smiling near, 

A lawn so cool and sweet, 
While trees with golden fruits appear, 

For all who wish to eat; 

And wells where sparkling water pure, 

Is in profusion found. 
And healthful breezes that allure 

To leafy bowers around — 

Where doves are cooing 'neath the shade 

In gentle notes of love, 
And other song-birds serenade. 
Around, beneath, above; 

And children sporting o'er the lawn. 

Elate with childhood's joys, 
With rippling laughter, sweet as dawn. 

That Care's dark brood destroys. 

My rural home I dearly prize, 
I love its groves and fields — 

I love its blue ethereal skies — 
The golden fruits it yields — 

I love its sunshine and its shade — 

I love each tree and vine — 
I love the things my hands have made, 

And feel that they are mine — 

387 



I love its fireside's ruddy glow 

In somber winter days — 
I love its pure white crystal snow — 

Its lamp light's cheerful blaze. 

With books and papers fresh at hand, 

Their pages I peruse, 
With ample leisure at command. 

To ponder well the news. 

We've acres ample, our domain 
(A mile from East to West,) 

Is tilled with care to grass and grain — 
No inch my foot 's not pressed. 

We've kine and swine, and poultry, too, 
With cream and butter sweet. 

And noble steeds that ever do 
Their service most complete. 

Our food is pure and fresh each day. 

And always seems the best, 
And from my inmost soul I pray 

That thus were all men blest. 

I love the spring-time's balmy breath. 

The summer's sunny ways, 
I love the autumn's golden death, 

The winter's bracing days. 
388 



'Tis here I breathe the pure fresh air 

And bathe in golden Ught, 
And each day strive, with patient care, 

Then sleep so sweet at night. 

And rise refreshed at dawn of day. 

New objects to pursue. 
And ever find along my way 

I've something grand to do. 

Here health and hope and strength abound, 

With naught to make afraid. 
And peace and joy and love are found. 

In brightest robes arrayed. 

With Plenty smiling at the door, 

The wolf is kept at bay. 
The httle riches laid in store 

Bring comfort every day. 

And thus the years on eagle's wings 

Are fleeing swiftly past, 
And thus each day its treasure brings 

While hfe and love may last. 

From bold ambition's airy schemes 

I feel forever free, 
And folly's wild and idle dreams 

Ne'er found a friend in me. 
389 



Let those who wish in cities dwell, 

Amid their din and strife, 
Where pomp and pride with folly swell 

That saps the founts of hfe. 

I rest beneath my vine and tree 

The coming of that hour 
When Time shall set the immortal free. 
To bless with richer dower. 
Dec. 24, 1892. 



''THE CITY WHITE BESIDE THE INLAND 

SEA'^ 
Before the Pyramids uprose to view. 
Or London's site upon the map was found; 
Before the fated walls of Troy were razed, 
Or lost Atlantis sank beneath the deep — 
Before all these were mighty cities built. 
And men went up and down their busy marts. 
A clamor wild did rise upon the air. 
And wealth untold their coffers strong did fill; 
But strife arose and bloody wars ensued 
And thousands fell beneath the sword of fate, 
And fate at last those cities swept away; 
When others cities rose to take their place, 
Whose day and destiny were hke the first — 
Whose lust for gold did carnage bring and death. 

390 



And since those ages of the ancient times, 

In modern days have cities grand uprose 

In Asia, and on Europe's fertile soil, 

Beneath the glow of wisdom's burning ray. 

On Albion's shore and fair Lutetia's strand 

They flourish 'mid the glare and sheen of gold, 

For love of gold has built those cities fair; 

And all this grandeur, pomp, and show and pride 

Is but the power that gold on all bestows. 

And all the cities of this fair New World 

Do likewise worship at the golden shrine. 

And proud Columbia holds her head aloft 

And vainly follows in the Old World's ways; 

For love of gold and power obtained therewith 

Has reared her cities in a single day. 

And one upon the borders of a sea 

That inland Hes, with walls that pierce the sky, 

Where multitudes are rushing madly on 

Amid the roll and roar of flying wheels, 

That day and night are ceaseless in their whirl. 

Is like a mighty giant in his strength. 

Or Hercules just from the earth upsprung. 

Four hundred years of toil and strife, 
In which progression 's spanned a thousand years, 
Since first Columbus touched these golden shores 
On which the radiant air at once foretold 
Achievements, far beyond the prophet's ken. 

391 



'Tis here a people 's found, of valor great, 
Whose blood has coursed the veins of many a race, 
But swiftly now is mingling into one 
That now is master of this Western World. 

And then uprose, like magic in a night, 
''The City White Beside the Inland Sea," 
Transcending all the wildest dreams e'er heard 
Of bold Aladdin's wond'rous lamp of gold — 
Surpassing all the splendor found in Ind. 
Or Persia's gilded cities grand and old. 
Then all the world was asked to come and bring 
Their richest gems of art and choicest works of 

skill. 
And place them on the shrine of peace and love, 
And thus a friendly strife of skill and worth. 
The wonders of the world flowed in and filled 
From base to dome those classic temples grand. 
The rarest, richest treasures of the earth 
Were piled in gorgeous heaps — in grand array. 
All most dazzHng and bewildering to behold. 
And people came from all the nations round 
And filled the space within the City White; 
And many tongues and tribes did there abide. 
And lovers walked and wooed beneath the shade 
Where gorgeous trees and flowers unfold their 

sheen — 
Where luscious fruits displayed their colors bright 
And beauty smiled on every object round — 

392 



And music, sweet as angel's dream of love, 
Arose and fell upon the pure, sweet air. 
And little, dark-skinned people from the isles 
Did come and build their homes so quaint and 

weird 
Amid this dazzling scene of beauty rare, 
And for a season there in wonder dwelt. 
And savage tribes from forests grand and old 
Did also come and build their lodges rude 
Beneath the shadow of imposing domes, 
And there vidth wonder-laden eyes did rest. 
And Africa's children, rude and dark, did come 
And dwelt in awe beneath their huts of bark. 
The lonely people from the frozen north 
Came also, clad in skins and furs the while. 
To learn how grand and wide this world of ours. 
And Arabs from Sahara's burning sands 
Did ride their camels through the busy throngs. 
Or through the streets upon their coursers wild 
Did range, clad in fantastic flowing garb. 
And men did rise like eagles in the air 
To gaze in wonder on the scene below. 
Or swiftly ran on flying wheels around. 
So came they from the regions far away 
'Till three-score tongues were spoken freely there. 

And those of Buddha's ancient faith did come, 
And Parsees with their faith so old and strange, 
And Hindoo, Brahmin, Shinto, also came. 
And those who follow in Confucius' steps. 

393 



Mohammedan and Greek and Jew did come, 
And all whose faith is in the Nazarene, 
And many more whose name is more obscure, 
And here in friendly parliament did meet 
To learn at last that men are brothers all. 

And many a dusky face will light with joy 
Within their far-off homes 'neath sunny skies. 
When memory, like a golden dream, recalls 
The dazzling wonders of the City White, 
And oft in many tongues the tale be told 
Where wondering, listening ears are never tired. 

The grandeur of the Orient has paled before 
The grand achievements of the Occident, 
And caste and creed and war been blotted out ■ 
The race been lifted to a higher plane. 
Oct. 8, 1893. 



394 



THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW 

The snow came down on a winter's night 
And covered the earth with its mantle white, 
And held her firm in its cold embrace, 
While it kissed her frozen tears on her face. 

While fast asleep 'neath her sheet of snow 
Her rivers had strangely forgotten to flow — 
Her lakes of crystal had changed to ice 
In many and many a curious device. 

Then the sun arose with its golden glow, 
And smiled in peace on the beautiful snow. 
And bathed with joy the cold clear air. 
While the earth rejoiced in her robes so fair. 

And man went forth in his strength and health, 
To revel at will in this new-found wealth. 
While skimming over the fleecy snow 
Where'er sweet fancy directed to go. 

It dropped so softly down to the earth, 
As pure as the breath of a babe at birth. 
Its crystal whiteness seemed a thing of bHss, 
As pure and chaste as a maiden's kiss — 

It made its bed on the upturned sod. 
As safe and silent as the will of God — 
It covered the grass, and covered the flowers, 
And among the trees built wonderful bowers, 

395 



And received the impress of bunny's feet, 
As through its depths she moved so fleet, 
To make her bed 'neath its ample fold. 
Where she sleeps away the wintry cold. 

The moon looked down from her Palace of Night 
On a sleeping world so beautifully white — 
The smile on her face wore a silver glow, 
As she gazed in rapture on the beautiful snow. 

And lovers sped forth over hills and dales. 
And the rhythm of joy kept time with the bells. 
While their laughter was light, and their souls were 

free, 
As swiftly they ghde o'er the crystal see. 

With tender words and with softer sighs 
Their plighted troth shone sweet from their eyes, 
While the only presence they cared to know 
Was the smiling moon and the beautiful snow. 
Feb. 17, 1895. 



396 



THE JOYFUL DAY 

Written for the Progessive Thinker, 

The day of joy and peace appears, 
The Hght and hope of all the years; 
'Tis Hke a day of jubilee 
That comes to make us mortals free,* 

That Hfts us from the mists of doubt 
And spreads the glory beams about, 
A Hght that shines on every face 
To bless with joy the human race. 

We long had dwelt in darkness drear, 
And groaned 'neath loads of doubt and fear. 
But now rejoice in love and peace. 
To bless this day that gave release; 

This joyful day so fair and bright 
Divides the darkness from the light. 
While all mankind has learned to know 
The treasures that it doth bestow. 

And down the course of coming time. 
Its music floats in sweetest rhyme — 
Its dawning fills the golden skies. 
And anthems in its honor rise. 
March, 31, 1895. 



397 



CALLED FROM HER PLAY 
Threnody 

Little Emily 's gone away, 
Gone to grace the realms of day. 
Happy spirit! gone to rest 
Now forever with the blest. 
Free from trouble, free from care, 
Breathing sweet, ambrosial air. 
The spirit's impress on her clay 
Left a seeming smile that day. 
For her friends who quickly came 
Once again her smiles to claim. 
But so quickly called away 
From her toys and from her play, 
That it seemed it could not be, 
One so young and fair like she ! 
Little darling, we believe 
Thou art happy, yet we grieve. 
And thy gentle presence miss 
While we crave thy loving kiss. 
Tears no more shall dim thine eyes 
In thy home beyond the skies. 
Where the angels will caress 
Thy sweet soul of loveliness — 
Where the loving angels guide 
Thy frail bark safe o'er the tide — 
Where thy tender soul will be 
Evermore from sorrow free — 

398 



Where the music of the spheres 
Will forever glad thy ears — 
Where the dreary scenes of Time 
Are exchanged for sights sublime — 
Where to womanhood thou 'It grow, 
Free from turmoil here below — 
Where thy loving life will be 
Pure as sunshine and as free — 
Where thy radiant home above 
Will for aye be hght with love — 
And while endless ages roll 
Love and glory bless thy soul. 
But we miss thee here in time 
For thy loveliness sublime, 
And must grieve thy absence sore, 
'Till we join thee on that shore. 
April 8, 1895. 



399 



THE HAMLET WHERE I WAS BORN 

Economy, Wayne Co., Ind. 

In youth I left my native place 

And wandered far away. 
To tread the mazy pathway through 

Of life's eventful day. 

My native hamlet on the hill 

I left with vain regret, 
Its quiet seems so bright and fair 

I never can forget. 

So quaint, so quiet and serene, 

Its peaceful slopes appear. 
Its sparkling waters pure and bright. 

Its air so pure and clear. 

No rabble dwells within its walls, 

No aristocrats are there, 
No drunken brawls were ever heard 

Within its precincts fair. 

This humble hamlet on the hill; 

The spot where I was born, 
Is free from pride and pomp and show. 

While peace its homes adorn. 

Ambition here was never known 
To rear its haughty head — 

And avarice' halting, palsied step 
Its peaceful haunts to tread. 

400 



When three decades had passed away, 

That I might ne'er forget 
Returned to \iew the dear old spot, 

'Twas just a hamlet yet. 

And then again when three decades 

Had swept my native hill, 
Returned once more to see the town, 

'Twas just a hamlet still ! 

Three hundred souls do here abide. 

In wholesome, sweet content 
And some the span of earthly years 

Within the town have spent. 

My grandsires dwelt quite near the town, 

And one Ues buried there, 
Where other kindred near and dear 

Are sleeping free from care. 

Full four score years have come and gone 

Since first it bore a name. 
While all the world about has changed 

It just remains the same. 

And may it ever thus remain. 

To memory ever dear. 
While turmoil reigns around the world, 

May rest and peace reign here ! 
Nov. 3, 1895. 

401 



HE SLEEPETH WELL 

(Eugene Field) 

He went to sleep to gaze no more 

On the lovely lake or the winding shore. 

For all on earth he had good-will, 

For nought but love his heart could fill. 

He went to sleep in the autumn air, 
No more on earth its sweets to share, 
But awoke to breathe the heavenly balm 
On the beautiful shores of the restful calm. 

He went to sleep, from a world of care. 
To awake with joy in the realms so fair. 
Too soon he left us, by sorrow tried. 
For warmer friends on the other side. 

He went to sleep — for sleep is rest — 

'Twas more for him — 'twas the sleep of the 

blest. 
Now death in sleep can come no more 
To break his rest on the golden shore. 
Manteno, Ills., Dec. 15, 1895. 



402 



THE DIFFERENCE 
The Girl that Laughs. 

There 's nought on earth so sweet and pure 

As a gentle maiden's soul, 
Like laughing water clear and bright, 

That through green valleys roll. 

That 's ever rippling on and on, 

And singing as they flow, 
A merry song so blithe and free — 

There 's music where 'er they go. 

The laughing girl you can trust for aye. 
She 's sweet and pure and clean. 

Her life, her acts, her words are pure. 
She '11 stoop to nothing mean. 

The sunshine like a golden beam 

She sheds on all around. 
Her laughter 's ever bubbhng forth 

No sweeter music 's found. 

The love of her heart is warm and true, 
And she knows no base design, 

Good-will she has for all that breathe. 
And none will she e'er mahgn. 

This girl that laughs is a boon to the race. 

Her love is the warmth of life, 
And he that weds her will find to his joy. 

He 's a sweet, angelic wife. 

403 



THE GIRL THAT SCOLDS 

But the girl that scolds is a demon of strife, 
Her soul is "wormwood and gall" 

A cancer is she on the face of despair — 
The blight of death over all. 

There's naught the enjoys but to scold and fret 
While a scowl beclouds her face, 

She fumes and storms, and roasts all the world. 
She's a blotch on the human race. 

She's brawHng and scolding the Uve-long day, 

No rest nor peace to be found. 
She vents her spleen, her anger and spite 

On the best of her friends that 's round. 

Evil she clutches with a desperate greed 

And rolls it under her tongue 
As a morsel sweet and dehciously good — 

While loud its praises are rung. 

And he who weds this girl of hate 

For hfe will lose desire. 
For soon he '11 find to his utmost grief 

He 's made his bed of fire. 

No peace nor rest this side the grave 

For the man she calls her own. 
And "Scolded to death," is the epitaph 
Engraved on his burial stone. 
Jan. 4, 1896. 

404 



TWO GOLDEN LIVES. 

Read at the Golden Wedding of R. S. Gilkerson, 
Feb. 19, 1896. 

A man and maiden in their youth 

Became enamored of the truth 
That life is only blest by love 

Descending from the founts above, 

Were glad to follow in this light 
That leads to heaven's supernal heights, 

And yielded in that early hour 
Unto this grand deific power. 

That placed them on life's sunny shore 
To please and bless them evermore, 

And through the tangled paths of time 
To make their Hves grow quite sublime. 

Then Cupid came with darts of fire 

And pierced their hearts with love's desire, 

And led them to the sacred shrine 
Where loving hearts he doth entwine. 

Then wedding bells with gladsome voice 
Rang out and made their hearts rejoice, 

And greetings warm from friends around 
With sweetest music did resound. 
405 



Now life was fresh, and hope divine 
Did 'round their glowing pathway shine, 

And thus they start — sweet hope to cheer 
Adown life's pathway bright and clear. 

Life's vista lays before them fair. 

While nought but beauty fills the air, 

And ever in their fancy's eye 

Are flowery paths and beaming sky. 

Then duty's voice so loud and stern 
Forbids them from their toil to turn, 

And ever on with sweet good-will 
They strive his mandate to fulfill. 

Thus love and labor hand in hand 
Are striving for the good and grand. 

Great promise does their labor bring. 
And to their faith with hope they cling. 

And children came with merry glee. 
With gentle lives, from sorrow free. 

With song and laughter, girls and boys 
That soothed their hearts with purest joys. 

But toil and struggle still went on 

With something gained, and something gone. 
Through checkered scenes of sun and shade — 

Of bright success or hopes betrayed. 
406 



Through winter's cold or summer's heat 
They traveled on with weary feet, 

Adown the royal road of life, 

And nobly stood 'mid all its strife, 

Till here to-day with wedding rite 
Again 'neath orange-blossoms white 

Now stand once more a bride and groom 
With happy friends in this grand room, 

And take once more the marriage vows 
With love's bright emblem on your brows. 

That has been borne by each for aye, 
To bless you on this happy day. 

Now fifty summers of leaf and bloom. 
And fifty winters of clouds and gloom 

Have come and swiftly passed away, 
Since dawned on you life's golden day. 

Yes, five decades of cold and heat 
Have laid their trophies at your feet 

Of health and wealth and friends most dear 
That came with joy your age to cheer. 

Your children came with faces fair, 
And bring their children, too, to share 

With you the joys, that soon may cease. 
And crown two golden lives with peace. 
407 



Two royal lives this golden day 
Are crowned with royal wreaths of bay, 
And Hke the full-orbed moon at even 
Shine forth to light the bending heaven. 

And thus we meet in grand good-will 
To see you here Hfe's hope fulfill, 
And bless you in this happy hour 
That finds you yet with unspent power, 

Still travehng toward that golden isle 
Where rest will greet you with a smile. 
And wait in peace — your labors done, 
The setting of life's golden sun. 



BIRD AND TREE * 

'Twas dreary winter weather, 

And in a city wide, 
A man and wife together 

Sat by the window-side; 

And just outside the casement, 

Where morning light is free, 
Grew up from near the basement 

A lone and leafless tree. 

♦By the east window in our room in New York stood a single tree, in which 
it seemed a single sparrow made its home. 

408 



Its branches waved demurely 

Beside the window-pane, 
And seemed to say as surely, 

"I feel the sleet and rain." 

And through its branches shrieking 
The wind swept fiercely past, 

And heard no soft voice speaking — 
Its leaves had long been cast. 

The snow came down in beauty 

Upon its branches bare, 
It stood there bound in duty 

To hold it white and fair. 

It for the sunshine waited 

To put its diamonds on. 
And then with glory sated 

It smiled when they were gone. 

For never was it lonely 

Amid the winter days, 
For one small, sweet bird only 

Sang through it tender lays. 

And thus amid the clamor 

Of a mighty city's din, 
The bird and tree enamor 

And give us peace within. 
409 



This bird's sweet song at morning 
Awoke us with delight, 

Its voice came like a warning 
To guide us in the right. 

Its gentle notes so tender 
Amid the city's roar — 

Its form so frail and slender 
Amid the winter's hoar, 

Were contrasts that awaken 
The thought within the soul, 

That nought can be forsaken 
Within the boundless whole, 

That every mote of being. 
Its proper place doth fill. 

And 'neath the eye all-seeing 
Is fixed with matchless skill. 
March ii, 1890. 



410 



TO THE FOUR GRANDDAUGHTERS 
WHO SENT CHRISTMAS GREET- 
INGS IN VERSE 

Dec. 25, 1897. 

Dear girls, the greetings came in time, 
The welcome being writ in rhyme — 
I'm ever pleased to hear in prose 
From good granddaughters such as those. 
But when they all break out in verse, 
I'm much surprised, if nothing worse, 
And much o'erjoyed, I must confess, 
So much, can scarce my thoughts express. 
I thank you all for kind intent 
That prompted thus kind greetings sent; 
I send best wishes most profound, 
That Christmas joys may sure abound. 
That all may live in love and peace 
And wisdom's gifts with each increase. 
To Mary, Kate and Eunice dear 
I send glad greetings this New Year, 
And Elsie, too, I '11 ne'er forget. 
Nor others in the family set; 
And hope good-will binds all together, 
If fair or foul should be the weather, 
And health and happiness abound 
To all within your circle found. 
And when the years have come and flown. 
And you have grandchildren of your own, 
411 



May they to you as mindful be 
As you this year have been to me, 
And send you lines in love's sweet voice 
That you may also thus rejoice. 
And now I '11 say to all good-bye 
And hope again next year you '11 try 
To court the Muse with hearts aflame, 
And I '11 remember you the same. 
Jan. 9, 1898. 



A HAPLESS LIFE 

Lines written on the Death of Lucinda Dole. 

'Tis ended now, her spirit hath fled, 
While her hapless body is left with the dead, 
A body so sickly, so frail and so weak, 
But a loving spirit, so kind and so meek. 

She sat in the silence all of her days. 
Nor heard the voice of blame or of praise — 
No loving words e'er warmed her heart 
No sound of sorrow her blood did start. 

The gift of speech she never knew. 
While deafness marred all her Hfeway through; 
Sadly and lonely her days were past 
A shadow of darkness o'er her pathway cast. 

412 



But a cheerful spirit she ever bore — 
Her greeting a smile, though her heart was sore; 
Patience and toil marked the cause of her Hfe 
While her spirit so pure knew nothing of strife. 

But now a joyous spirit is she, 
From gloom and darkness forever set free. 
With mother and brother on that radiant shore, 
Will dwell in its brightness forevermore; 

While we, who are left, will remember how dear 
Is the one who has finished her life journey here; 
But sometime and somewhere we will meet her 

again 
In that beautiful realm, free from sorrow and pain. 

Oct. 4, 1899. 

THE WINDS OF THE PRAIRIE 

The winds that sweep the prairies wide 
Were born on the mountains high. 

And swiftly o'er the fertile fields 
On eagle's wings they fly. 

They hasten to each covert spot. 

And fan with tireless wings 
The boundless stretch of airy space — 

The breath of living things, 

413 



And noxious vapors quick disperse 

With a daring, wanton pride, 
And spread the germs of life and health 

Far o'er the prairies wide. 

And when they leap from the mountain-top, 
Are as pure as an infant's breath, 

And make men strong in the race of life, 
And ward the shafts of death. 

Those gentle zephyrs, pure and sweet, 
Have kissed the flowers of May, 

And cooled the toiler's fevered brow 
On a sultry summer's day. 

Then with a wild, terrific force 
Spreads dire destruction round — 

Remains of human bodies lay 
Wide-scattered o'er the ground; 

A city's piled in ruins high 

Along the demon's path; 
And nought with breath of life endowed 

Escapes his mighty wrath. 

And thus those winds bring peace and war 

Along their winding course, 
And here they reign with gentle sway, 

And there with angry force. 
Jan. lo, 1901. 

414 



THE FARMER'S LIFE 

The farmer's life is a joy to see, 
So bright and jolly — so Hght and free — 
So full of hope — so full of cheer — 
Through all the changes of the happy year. 

The morning Hght, Hke a flood of joy, 
Brings sweet deUght to the farmer's boy; 
The evening shade, like a flood of peace. 
From toil and struggle brings sweet release. 

The night for aye brings sweet repose 
That none but the farmer so truly knows; 
The toils of the day make rest so sweet — 
The two together make life complete. 

The lowing herds, and the bleating flocks. 
The cackHng hens, and the crowing cocks. 
The thrush's note, and the robin's song — 
Is music that cheers him all the day long. 

He 's at home in his garden — at home in his field — 
At home in his harvest, and proud of its yield — 
At home with his children — and joins their play 
Their laughter and frolic a dehght all the day. 

He breathes the air so pure and sweet 
That gives him manhood's strength complete, 
The morning sun brings hope and cheer, 
The evening shades bring peace most dear. 

415 



And thus the farmer's life may run, 
So full of strength for duties done; 
Like a river of peace it onward flows 
Through shade and shine to a peaceful close. 

But some there are for greed of gain 
Make all those happy chances vain; 
For love of gain their lives are spent, 
On nought but gain their thoughts are bent. 

They strive to lay up gold in store, 
And dig and hunt forevermore; 
And thus their lives grow dark and bare. 
And they die at last in blank despair. 
May 7, 1899. 



THE SONGS OF CHILDHOOD 

When age has piled his winter snows 

Upon your pensive brow, 
Your ears are dull, your eyes are dim, 

Your frame begins to bow. 

And manhood's strength is waning fast. 

Your days are full of care. 
And hope's bright smile has been exchanged 

For the frown of dark despair. 
416 



Your nights are long and lone and dark, 

Yet time so swiftly flies; 
The dreams of early life have fled, 

And left you sad surprise. 

The friends of early Hfe are gone. 
The friends you loved from birth, 

And gone for aye the merry laugh, 
The songs of ringing mirth. 

Then sing again those songs of youth. 

And sing them o'er and o'er! 
*Twill v^arm your cold and aching heart 

And make you young once more. 

'Twill bring the joys, so sweet and fresh. 

You felt those early days. 
The flowers that seemed so fair and sweet, 

The songbird's tuneful lays. 

'Twill bring the spring-time's genial glow 
That cheered the morning hght. 

The shining grass, the blooming trees. 
The summer sunshine bright. 

Then sing again those songs of youth. 

And sing them o'er and o'er! 
'Twill warm your cold and aching heart 

And make you young once more. 
April 9, 1899. 

417 



THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN HUNTER 

He 's up before daylight, when weather is fair, 
Walking and breathing the sweet mountain air. 
Or riding his broncho, so steady and slow. 
Looking for ''signs" where the antelopes go. 
Or listening for sounds, where the elk might 

appear, 
Or scanning the ridges, the "runways" for deer. 
He 's as happy and free as the eagle that flies. 
As he gazes in rapture on the blue-tinted skies. 
He 's armed with a rifle repeating ten times. 
And regular and strong are its echoing rhymes. 
The mountain and forest, the hiU and the dale 
Are the joys of his life, and are joys that don't 

fail. 
His tent is equipped with a stove and a bed, 
And he eats and he sleeps without danger or 

dread. 
His nights are as restful and free from distress 
As his days are joyful, with sweet happiness. 
Here game is abundant, elk, antelope and bear, 
Moose, mutton, ptarmigans, fish, squirrels and hare. 
Then ho! for the Rockies, where happiness reigns! 
Come ye who are burdened, come, rest your poor 

brains. 
There's game and there's pleasure, and there's 

happiness true 
Come, rest from life's turmoil, bid worry adieu ! 
March ii, 1901. 

418 



THE SQUIRRELS OF THE GROVE 

The squirrels are a bonny race, 
Their home's among the trees, 

High up they build their house of leaves, 
To wave in summer breeze; 

They sport and play the summer through 

Or rest in leafy bowers. 
Their life seems like perpetual joy. 

Compared to life of ours. 

Up and down the trunks of trees 

They nimbly run at will. 
Or lightly spring from bough to bough; 

It seems they 're never still. 

The active, joyous, httle sprites. 

So full of Hfe and fun ! 
They chase each other round and round; 

Like lightning do they run. 

Now from my window I can see 
Them as they sport and play 

Among the walnut trees they love 
On every shiny day. 

Sometimes they sit upon a bough. 

When cat or dog appears. 
And bark and scold to drive them off — 

Their tails flopped 'round theire ears. 

419 



These little people of the grove 

Are cunning httle elves, 
They wash their faces with their paws, 

Then deftly wipe themselves 

By whisking up their bushy tails 
• And wipe their faces dry. 
Such feat as this I 'm very sure 
None else need ever try. 

When comes the sunny autumn days 

They're busy as the bees 
In garnering nuts for winter time 

Beneath the waving trees; 

The walnut is their best-loved food, 
They cut the hardest shell 

With teeth as sharp as hardened steel, 
For meat they love so well. 

They love the heart in grains of corn. 
No other part they '11 eat; 

But apples in the summer-time 
Regard as rarest treat. 

Such cheerful happy hves they Hve, 

Examples for us all, 
So bright and cheerful all day long 
Among the walnuts tall. 
Jan. i8, 1903. 

420 



THE FEAST OF THE TATTERDEMALIONS 

The Tatterdemalions at Tattersall's Hall, 
They come in great hordes, they come upon call. 
The newsboys and Jews' boys, they come one 

and all 
To a big Christmas dinner, at Tattersall's Hall. 

'Twas on Christmas day, nineteen hundred and 

one. 
They came for their dinner, they came to have 

fun — 
Some of them walked, but most of them run — 
Father and mother, and daughter and son. 

There were Christians and heathens and others 
beside, 
And nondescripts all, for none were denied — 
They came in their rags, they came in their 

pride. 
And if any were left, in sorrow they cried . 

There were the fat and the lean, the weak and 

the strong. 
The black and the white, and the short and the 

long; 
Some came hmping, some singing snatches of 

song, 
And never before, had we seen such a throng. 
421 



Such features and fixtures were not seen before — 
Some active and sprightly, some feeble and poor, 
Till at length the big hall was filled to the 

door — 
Ten thousand had come, ten thousand or more. 

Now great stacks of dinner, stood high in the hall, 
And all have been seated, the great and the small, 
And all are now anxious to welcome the call. 
For they feel Hke they could eat, the tables and 
all! 

There is chicken and turkey, rabbit and goose — 

Beefsteak, and pork-chops, and mutton and 
moose. 

And apple-sauce and pumpkin pies, and cran- 
berry juice, 

And the talking now, is like bedlam let loose. 

They ate and they feasted, and they feasted galore. 
Till in truth their hides would hold nothing more, 
And their stomachs cried out, and were painful 

and sore. 
And the great stacks had vanished, then van- 
ished encoie: 

But the morrow was dark, and sorrow doth reign. 
For the Tatterdemalions, are suffering from pain — 
And the doctors are running, their lives to main- 
tain — 
While they solemnly vow they'll not do it again. 
422 



But the day they'll remember, remember for 

aye, 
And never again, they're all willing to say. 
Will they feast and gorge, as they did on that 

day — 
For the fun that they had, too much sorrow to 

pay. 
Jan. I, 1902. 



423 



PALINGENESIS. 

The wintry winds swept o'er the moor, 

Beneath an angry sky, 
Where people dwelt so sad and poor. 

That none regret to die! 

This low land lay beside the sea, 

A lonely barren waste! 
So sterile that no shrub or tree 

Its fruitless soil embraced: 

So far from busy haunts of men. 

They seldom saw the place — 
Such wretchedness beyond their ken. 

To ever fairly trace. 

The sea a scanty living gave. 

But want was ever there. 
And no rehef this side the grave 

From wretchedness and care; 

And here disease with Hngering breath. 

Prolonged the wretches' life, 
Who wept and groaned and longed for death 

To come and end the strife: 

Here crime and theft were seldom known 

Upon this wretched shore — 
So humble had the people grown. 

Bowed by afflictions sore. 

424 



But lo! a scourge has come at last, 
That sweeps them all away — 

It comes as Winter's searching blast, 
Prolonged for many a day: 

And all are gone, save one alone. 

While in his hut he Hes, 
"Lavern the leper," long was known — 

Whose misery never dies! 

For ten long years in filth he 's lain — 

By loathsome sores defiled. 
Forever cursed by cruel pain, 

And torn by frenzy wild! 

His wretchedness no tongue can tell — 
Soon death must close the scene. 

And wintry winds will shriek his knell, 
The eve and morn between. 

Lavern has suffered to the end, 
The keenest mortal throes — 

In loneliness, and not a friend 
To cheer him at the close; 

But now upon the golden shore. 
Transformed, in glory stands. 

His sufferings past forevermore. 
To rest in radiant lands. 
425 



And as his sorrows here below 
Were all that man could bear, 

The joys of life now overflow 
In fullness over there! 

Around him gather dearest friends, 
Whom he's rejoiced to meet — 

For loneliness to make amends, 
In dear communion sweet. 

Thus compensation full is made, 

In realms forever pure. 
For burdens here upon us laid, 

Whate'er we may endure. 
Feb. 2, 1886.1 



MOMENTS 

How the moments come and go! 
Bright with joy, or black with woe. 
Speeding on with tireless wing, 
Life or death to all they bring — 
To the wretched and the blest. 
Dark despair, or sweetest rest — 
Through the sunshine, through the dark 
Moving like the Hghtning's spark — 
Through the cottage of the poor — 
Through the rich man's palace door; 
426 



To the living and the dying, 
Swiftly on they're ever flying — 
Here they plunge a soul in night, 
There another 's borne to light — 
Here is born a household v^onder, 
There a household 's burst asunder — 
Here they spread the earth with grain. 
There their gift is Want and Pain — 
Here they kiss the new-born child. 
There they hiss with frenzy wild — 
Here they cool the keen desire. 
There they burn with fiercest fire — 
Some they raise to a dizzy height — 
Some they plunge in abysmal night, 
Some they bear on beds of ease — 
Some they scourge with dire disease. 
Some they load with foulest shame — 
Some they crown with glorious fame, 
Some they hide in polar snows — 
Some they soothe with sweet repose. 
Some they rest on fruitful soil — 
Some they curse with constant toil. 
Some they bless with peaceful Hfe — 
Some they drive through ceaseless strife; 
Thus their reign they ne'er give o'er — 
Firm and steadfast evermore — 
Thus through all the worlds of space, 
Ever keeping time and pace — 
427 



Witness every act of man — 
Every motive closely scan, 
And forever in the Past, 
And v^^hile coming ages last, 
All things thus are ever done 
By the moments as they run. 
June 7, 1885 



MUSING 

I love to sit and muse upon the past, 
When through the Hghted chambers of my soul 
There come and go those gentle thoughts so pure, 
Like troops of fairy sprites v^ith laughing eyes 
That shine v^ith love so full of lambent flame. 
And through my soul diffuse their witching pov^er; 
Then backward floating comes to me again 
The spicy breath of childhood's happy dreams — 
The golden hours when Hfe was young and fresh 
And all the world was hke a morn in May 
So fresh and sweet with odors of the Spring — 
The beams of morn shone bright upon the hills 
And life's young day was glowing fresh with hope. 
Ere care had dulled the pulses of my heart. 
Thence turning to the golden West, my gaze 
I fix upon the setting sun of life — 
Beholding now the grandeur that appears, 
And casts a softer radiance o'er the scene: 
428 



The heat and burden now of midday past, 
Ambition's flame has burned itself away, 
And breezes cool from o'er the Western Seas 
Pass calmly by and fan the faded cheek; 
And when the sun has dropped into the sea 
And left a golden radiance on the sky, 
Then Hope, elate, doth fix his steadfast gaze 
Intently on the far horizon's brim, 
His wont to pierce the intervening space, 
Whence far has gone the source of light and Hfe, 
But no reward returns to bless the sight; 
Yet, on the ev'ning air is heard a voice 
That falls upon the inner ear so sweet. 
Across that bourne whence Avon's bard has said. 
Once passed, "No trav'ler yet has e'er returned," 
And soothes away the bitter pangs of doubt. 
And satisfies the longings of the soul — 
Then high upon the mountain top of life. 
It comes again, far sweeter than at first. 
Unfolding all the beauties that are found 
Wherein the hope of childhood fresh and strong, 
Combined with wisdom's golden ray serene, 
Gives hfe fruition full, for hopes deferred. 
And like the rising sun gives light and warmth 
To all the world, awakened fresh from sleep; 
And thus my soul's refreshed with hope sublime, 
While calmly treading hfe's uneven way. 
March 15, 1886. 

429 



HESPER OR THE UNFOLDING 

PART I. 
THE DEPTHS PROFOUND. 

Too deep and dark for mortal ken, 
Yet felt by angels and by men — 
The mystic depths of life. 



Within the bosom of the past 
There rested once a spark of light, 
Its home was in the soul divine 
Of One who judgeth all aright — 
Deep in this fountain's mystic depths, 
In silence sweet had slumbered there 
For ages, countless as the stars. 
Nor felt a thrill of joy or care. 



Awakened was this monad then. 
And on the Infinite's breath was sent; 
A wand'rer through the wilds of space 
Upon its high-born mission bent; 
A germ of life now too minute 
To be surveyed by mortal eye. 
With myriads more — in silence deep. 
Was sweeping through the starless sky, 

430 



Beyond the star whose silver light 
Has never reached this earthly sphere — 
Beyond the sun's far-reaching ray 
Where naught but darkness doth appear; 
Amid these darkest depths profound, 
Through trackless realms of ether vast — 
With tireless impulse, floated on, 
While countless ages came, and passed. 



This sightless germ by impulse swept, 
Has ranged the realms of darkness o'er. 
And by attraction's ceaseless force 
Is drawn towards a brighter shore; 
Its dreams of life has ever been 
The unfolding of a higher state — 
A reaching outward for the light. 
With glimpses of impending fate. 



For years as countless as she sands 
Around the ocean's wide expanse. 
Was ever yearning for the light. 
By which it forward might advance; 
But now these longings soon must cease. 
It nears the light, — its long sought goal ! 
And from this fountain sweet must drink, 
While endless ages onward roll. 

431 



The earth's bright sphere it enters now, 
For by unerring instinct led — 
Is drawn toward the glowing air, 
Where Hght around the earth is shed; 
To revel in this light and warmth, 
Forever dreaming of the time. 
When under nature's holy law, 
Should rise into a life subhme. 



It ranged the fields of nature through, 
Then to the air of earth consigned — 
By Fate's unyielding stern decree 
It sought on earth its home to find, 
And sought while ages rolled away. 
To reach the realm of conscious thought, 
Wherein life's hopes and fears are found — 
Experience gained, and wisdom bought. 



The time must come in nature's course 
For fruits to ripen on the earth — 
Causation brings the time around, 
In which all beings have their birth; 
This perfect law, by hand divine 
Was written on the soul of things. 
And through all realms its ceaseless force 
Still unto all fruition brings. 

432 



The potent energies of life, 
As found in nature's wide domain, 
Are by unerring wisdom sent — 
While blessings follow in their train; 
Just as the flower precedes the fruit, 
This bud, in bloom must first appear. 
And shed its fragrance o'er the souls 
Of those who dwell in gladness here. 



Where gentle dews of love descend 
Upon a Hfe divinely fair, 
Beneath a sun whose genial rays 
Are smiling through the balmy air — 
Where love and hope and strength and joy 
Have ripened in a golden sphere, 
Where all the springs of life are fresh. 
Nor gloom, nor sorrow, doth appear. 



Where manhood's young and rugged strength 
Is softened by the tender flame. 
That swept and thrilled his being o'er 
With bright visions as it came; 
'Tis here this molecule divine 
With loving breath is now inhaled, 
By one who 's noble, pure and good, 
And at love's fountain is regaled. 

433 



And here within man's glowing breast 

It circles with the purple tide, 

And feels the warm pulsating life 

To which it 's now so near allied; 

And on this hot ensanguined flood 

It mounts the empire of the brain, 

Where Hfe magnetic sits enthroned. 

And o'er the realms of thought doth reign. 



Its aspirations erst had been 
The unfolding of the inner life, 
Beginning now its upward course — 
It struggles through this world of strife! 
It sweeps the circulation round 
And to the heart has found its way, 
And by its love and warmth is told, 
x\nother law must soon obey. 



This man whose soul with love is thrilled. 
By whom this monad has been blest 
Is wafted o'er a sea of bliss, 
And in Love's harem now doth rest; 
And she, the partner of his joys, 
So pure and gentle, true and kind! 
With graces sweet as balmy morn 
And rich contented happy mind. 

434 



Two kindred souls with love endowed — 
The tender passions whelms them o'er! 
No discord e'er their thoughts divide — 
They here unite to part no more, 
The day never gazed on love so grand 
Nor night beheld in visions sweet, 
Such love as blends two souls in one 
As in extatic trance they meet. 



In this embrace — where love profound, 

In human nature unconfmed — 

Is opened up life's fountain deep — 

This monad to his mate 's consigned. 

Where 'neath her kind and loving heart 

Its incarnation now begins — 

The goal for which it long aspired — 

The prize of hfe at last it wins! 



O life ! thou sweet mysterious boon — 
What glories cluster round thy name! 
Yet who can mark thy destined end 
Or, who can tell us whence thou came? 
Thy realm 's as broad as boundless space, 
As deep as Time's unending stream, — 
Thy pulses throb with rhythmic tone 
That wakes us from the mystic dream. 

435 



We wake to revel in delight, 
Or, struggle fierce with want and woe. 
For hfe is hke a silver lake — 
Or, like a torrent does it flow — 
And yet to all 'tis ever dear 
Amid the storm, or in the calm. 
And he who gives it most of joy, 
Shall through all ages wear the palm. 



This pair whose bliss is now complete, 
Made happy in the conscious thought, 
That through their love so sweet and pure 
This wondrous work of hfe is wrought; 
A love is born that far transcends, 
The hope that erst their bosoms fed. 
Their future's tinged with golden light — 
More closely are their spirits wed. 



The natal hour is close at hand, 
A mother's heart is throbbing fast, 
Expectant of the coming hour 
When all her travail shall be past — 
When in her arms her precious charge 
Is folded to her loving breast. 
Which seems a cherub from the skies 
To give her longing spirit rest. 
436 



This mother in her fondest dreams 
Is wont to hear an angel voice, 
Assuring her in tender tones, 
Her heart in peace will soon rejoice — 
Yes, from the bending skies descend 
The dew of consolation sweet. 
Which tells her of the dawning Hfe 
That soon her longing eyes shall greet. 



A life that 's molded as the clay 
When in the potter's skillful hand, 
Is wrought the vase of beauty rare — 
Or scattered hke the desert sand! 
Or like the yielding wax that takes — 
Touched by the artist's magic skill, 
The forms of grace, so pure and chaste, 
That ever through our souls must thrill. 



The mother stamps her impress deep 
Upon her unborn infant's soul. 
While in the embryonic state 
Its fate she ever must control; 
She dooms it to a life of woe, 
Of wretchedness and dark despair, 
Or fills its soul with joy and light, 
Within a temple bright and fair. 

437 



The mother's love, so pure and strong! 
Kind nature planted in her breast, 
To bless the struggling race of man 
And give a v^^aning world sweet rest — 
To sow the seeds of love and peace 
Within a spirit pure and good, 
Would seem her mission in the world 
Whenever rightly understood. 



As when the sun illumes the day, 
And darkness from the earth has fled, 
As when the storm its fury's spent. 
And smiHng skies are overhead, 
As when stern Winter's reign is past 
And spring returns with sweetest voice, 
To smile upon the blooming earth — 
So does this mother's heart rejoice; 



For lo! her star of hope appears, 
Her fears and travail now are past - 
And now she feels a gentle breath 
Upon her glowing cheek at last — 
A being 's ushered into life, 
A tender babe, so pure and blest, 
A bud of promise, pure and fair — 
'Tis sleeping on her peaceful breast. 
438 



From heavens high this soul had come, 
To clothe itself with mortal life — 
Was born to tread the rugged earth, 
And mingle fiercely in the strife; 
So innocent and pure it seems, 
A being sent from sunny skies — 
It knows no sorrow, fear, or pain, 
As in its mother's arms it lies. 



The dawning of thy earthly day 
Is fair as spring-time's rosy hours, 
And may the sunshine ever stream 
Upon thy pathway, — strewn with flowers, — 
May wisdom guide thy trembling bark; 
The rocks and shoals of folly, scan — 
And virtue — knowledge — teach thy heart, 
To know — how great, how weak, is man. 



PART II. 
A LIFE. 

A pebble in the streamlet cast. 

Has changed its course — but backward never 

A dew-drop — ere its childhood's past 

Has warped the giant oak forever! 

439 



The morn of life breaks on a human soul! — 
Its sun rolls upward to its destined goal! — 
A child is born to walk this world of ours, 
To taste of bitter dregs, or cull sweet flow'rs. 
From out the mystic past it was evolved — 
Has breathed the morning air — a riddle solved — 
Has come to revel in this world of sense. 
Congeal, or burn with feeUngs most intense. 

This infant in its mother's sight most dear, 
Like beam of hope — shines o'er her pathway 

clear, 
Caressed and loved as infants seldom are — 
A home 's made happy by this rising star — 
This new-born love expands the parents' hearts 
And to the pulse a quicker throb imparts — 
No tender babe e'er had more tender care, 
Its life and health — the burden of each prayer. 

They note its growth each morning, noon and 

night, 
But should it cough — they tremble with affright — 
And when a smile Ughts up its face in sleep, 
"The angels come their guarding care to keep," 
They shield it from each draft of chilly air 
And breathe their love upon its features fair. 
Unfolding now each day in strength and grace 
With love and light upon its smiling face. 

440 



Its life flows onward like a silver stream, 

It wakes to smile — then falls asleep to dream, 

No broken threads, in 'ts web, or woof of life — 

It hears no footfalls of the coming strife. 

No shadows yet have fallen on its soul. 

It still lies folded like a parchment scroll — 

Reposing now in innocence secure, 

No foretaste yet, of what it must endure. 



A name it takes by which it shall be known, 

And Hesper soon shall walk the world alone, 

But for the present basks in sunny smiles 

Nor feels the charm, so many hearts beguiles — 

A flow'r with petals opening to the sun 

His new-born life is fairly now begun, 

The coming man is now a boy. 

His father's pride, his mother's sweetest joy. 



His childhood's home is near a city wide, 
'Mid blooming grove — a glassy lake beside. 
Where nature in a sweet and tender mood 
Had shown with lavish hand, her plentitude — 
Where man had given his richest works of art 
To adorn a scene, that should please the heart. 
Amid these smiles of nature's grand display 
Young Hesper came, upon the wings of May. 

441 



How dear is every thought of childhood's hour! 
When once 'tis past, returns with tenfold power; 
The golden visions that our promise fed 
Come back to bless us, though we know they're 

dead; 
Again they come — again we live them o'er. 
Like angel forms, they're ever near our door — 
Good angels, too, how often do they prove, 
When to love, and mercy, stern man they move. 

Our shining pathway in hfe's early dawn — 
So smooth and fair — lies o'er a velvet lawn; 
The sun shines brighter than in manhood's noon, 
And softer o'er the landscape shines the moon; 
How fresh and clear there comes the light! 
While sunset's golden skies smile on the night — 
And down the corridors of coming time, 
Comes no sound — save life's music, wove in 
rhyme. 

No storms of passion burst athwart the soul, 
Our destined way seems under our control — 
We dream not of the struggles fierce and dark, 
That soon upon our spirits leave their mark; — 
We dream not of the load of conk'ring care — 
A burden that must seem so hard to bear; 
That crushes down one-half the human race 
And leaves its impress on the furrowed face. 

442 



A child 's at play beside an ocean vast, 
Where shining pebbles by its waves are cast — 
Soon must this child upon its bosom glide 
And feel the pulse of its mighty tide: 
Upon this sea of Hfe where wind and wave 
Appall the stoutest hearts — and none can save- 
Where many wrecks are strewn along its strand; 
Broken by the waves — buried neath the sand. 



Yet many barks do here outride the gale, 

In joyous freedom o'er its waters sail — 

Where the sun is shining — and the breezes play 

On snowy canvas — bearing them away 

To some happy haven — or blessed isle 

Where the tempest sleepeth — and a gentle smile 

Glows upon the landscape — where sweetest 

flowers 
Send their richest fragrance through shady bowers. 

Young Hesper's childhood years are ghding past, 
Without a shade of sorrow o'er his features cast — 
A rosebud opening 'mid the dews of love! 
Where zephyrs play — with smihng skies above — 
A bow of promise to his parents dear. 
Who with affection kiss away each tear. 
Around their tender hearts becomes a tie — 
A chain with links of love, that draws them nigh. 

443 



The gentle patter of his Httle feet, 

Like drops of welcome rain, make music sweet. 

His lisping words, like oracles of old 

Fall from his lips, more precious far than gold; 

He Hfts his feet at first hke bird its wing. 

When first in flight, it tries the air of spring. 

And like the bird, when strength gives longer flight 

He soon will wander from his mother's sight. 



Not yet, his mother's idol must depart, 
'Twould chill at once the sunshine of her heart, 
As chills the day when winter's darkest cloud 
Rides o'er the morn, and winds are shrieking loud; 
And yet the time will come when from her breast, 
He'll wander o'er the world, and find no rest; 
And 'mid the storm, he'll sink beneath the wave — 
This love so pure and strong, his bark will save. 



No scene of earth on which good angels smile. 
Is purer, fairer and more free from guile — 
Like heaven's light so sweet and undefiled. 
This love that binds the mother and her child ;- 
A love that overleaps the bounds of death 
And utters blessings with its dying breath. 
Whose wide foundation, firm as heaven's throne. 
Extends to all within the vast unknown. 

444 



In childhood's journey o'er an untried course, 
The soul is moved by new impelling force — 
'T is swayed and fashioned by each object strange 
That passes by, or comes within its range; 
A little world in which it lives and moves — 
A circled path, with ever widening grooves. 
Each day must tread some track untried before 
And new experience gain, to lay in store. 

A laughing child with happy glowing face. 
At play among his toys, with charming grace, 
An active little sprite — each dawning day 
Brings sweeter joys to bless his cheerful play: 
The light of morn awakes him with a smile — 
Night's wing enfolds a heart that knows no guile; 
And thus the day and night with step complete 
Are passing swiftly by on noiseless feet. 

The dreams of youth soon follow childhood's glee, 
As light and shade upon a flowery lea, 
And troops of happy visions, night and day. 
Come flitting through the mind, and pass away; 
To-day sees castles touring in the air. 
To-morrow sees them tumble, prostrate there — 
Sunshine and shadow chase each other here — 
The morn aglow with hope — evening draped in 
fear. 

445 



The charms of youth now flush young Hesper's 

cheek, 
In action finds more joy, than tongue can speak — 
With ball and top and kite, when out of school, 
He ranges all things o'er, 'bove law and rule; 
Or on the glassy pond with steel-clad feet '^ 
He glides with speed of wind, and grace complete, 
Or down upon the long incline upon his sleigh. 
Now swifter than an arrow shoots away. 



His tasks in school are never left undone. 
When out, he leads in jolHty and fun. 
His active restless mind, at work, or play. 
Through summer's sultry heat, or Winter's day: 
Nor weariness, nor pain, he yet has known. 
Nor many seeds of vice within, are sown — 
Till now his first decade, is reached with pride. 
While naught caprice has asked, has been denied, 



The parents' fondness for their first-born child, 
Their better judgment often has beguiled; 
''They kill with kindness," and with best intent. 
Where sound restraint and discipline were meant — 
The child's indulged in all his childish whims 
All things he asks, for head, or hands, or Hmbs, 
Are freely bought, and paid for down in gold 
And new things in a week, are worn and old. 

446 



Mistaken kindness, for youth's plastic mind, 
Impressions lasting, takes, of every kind; 
And careful culture, or a weak restraint. 
Will either breed a devil, or a saint. 
Since *' education forms the common mind," 
And as "the twig is bent the tree's inclined," 
By proper methods, hold the sapling strait! 
Nor let blind impulse, mold its future state. 



How seldom parents see the point at once. 
But let their child grow up a knave, or dunce —^ 
Yet how can they themselves the better know? 
If none have shown to them the way to go: 
Let reason, thought, and wisdom, ever guide — 
With all the founts of knowledge opened wide, 
Then streaming from the heavens comes the light 
That will lead the parent, and the child aright.^ 



A pleasing youth on whom fair fortune smiles. 
He stands amidst temptation's luring wiles — 
Each flowering path that opens to his view 
He enters boldly — every scene is new. 
But soon he learns the world's not what it seems 
And like the mist, have vanished many schemes. 
Yet hope, and trust, have not been overcast. 
While Time on wings of light is ghding past. 

447 



A life that's warmed by many a pleasing thought, 
Experience pays the price, for learning bought! — 
His college days aglow with promise bright, 
Now waft him on in fancy's airy flight — 
His horoscope he thinks has now been cast, 
Reveahng all the future — as the past — 
While plots and plans, are flitting through his brain 
Like troops of meteors, — cannot remain. 



'Mong all his schemes he never finds a plan, 
To suit the purpose of the coming man — 
To-day the mounts of learning high he treads 
And thinks o'er all the world his light he spreads, 
But on the morrow changes for the law — 
Thinks after him one-half the world he'll draw; 
Next day may choose for life the "heaHng art," 
Then drops them all, and takes some other part. 

His fancy moves to be a great divine, 
And through a world of doubt — drop his plummet- 
line 
And point the way that leads from earth to heaven, 
With all the eloquence to mortals given; 
He's certain, too, his life-work now is found, 
He'll spread his light to earth's remotest bound — 
But oft before he's felt as sure as this. 
He'd found the calHng, that would bring him bliss. 

448 



'Tis oft the nature of the youthful mind, 

To be as fickle as the vernal wind — 

A steadfast purpose seldom comes, till years 

Have ripened into manhood's golden spheres: 

The experience gained within the school of life 

Is what avails us in this world of strife — 

The winds that shake the mighty oak are found. 

To fix its roots more firmly in the ground. 



While Hesper's plans of Hfe have often changed, 
Through many fields, and schemes, his mind has 

ranged 
Each scheme while new, he feels has come to stay. 
But soon grown old, he drops them by the way; 
He acts not rashly, but considers well 
Each part, and plan, life's future course to tell — 
A VOICE, he hears that whispers in his soul, 
*' Admonished be, and study self-control." 



A traveler now he'll be in foreign lands. 
Traversing mountain — snows and burning sands 
The tender flame has kindled in his heart, 
But for a time he bids it to depart: 
His parents, wealthy, and of kind intent, 
To all his glowing schemes, give clear assent. 
Now grant him ample means to go abroad — 
With new-laid schemes his mind is overawed. 

449 



His college days are drawing to a close, 
And naught till then, can give his mind repose, 
His record gives him here, an honored place — 
And dawning manhood's strength, an easy grace; 
While through ambition's airy halls he treads. 
And Hope's bright pinions o'er his pathway spreads — 
A roseate hue, now 'round his hfe is cast. 
And in its glow, his next decade is passed. 



With rapid speed approaches manhood's state. 
Yet for its advent, scarcely can he wait. 
He's longing eagerly his strength to try 
While Time on drooping wings, passes slowly by; 
His form is comely, yet with strength endowed 
His step is bold, but neither stiff nor proud, 
His forehead broad, his eye of hazel hue — 
He stands erect, denoting soul that's true. 



O mortal man! how dimly dost thou see, 
What the future years, have in store for thee — 
For the destined fate, that awaits thee here 
Is unfolded slowly, by each rolling year — 
Providence has hidden, wisely from us all 
Many shining blessings, — curses that appall — 
Fate is fixed in nature, by unerring laws. 
All effects are loyal, to their parent cause. 

450 



Sometimes the stream of life flows without a sound, 
Sometimes it flows where rocks and storms abound, 
In either case its course is to that sea — 
The goal of all, whose spirits are set free! 
To rest in rosy bow'rs, in that land of bhss. 
Freed from the sorrows, incident to this, 
The sorrows that must come to all in life 
Who tread the rocky shores — in this mortal strife. 



Yet when we rise to tread the golden shore, 
Must feel we're blest, by burdens we have bore — 
Rejoicing comes, to heal the broken heart. 
While loving friends, from us shall never part — 
We see the good, that comes to us through pain 
And what was lost, returns to us again — 
We live to love, while endless ages roll. 
Bestowing some on every human soul. 



Of such reflections Hesper does not know — 
While from the college portal he must go, 
With highest honors wreathed upon his brow, 
Bearing off the palm, with the laurel bough — 
Has striven nobly — reached the dazzling goal. 
Proudly in his grasp, finds the parchment scroll 
The wide world now is opening to his view, 
All behind is old — all before is new! 

451 



With busy thoughts his days and night are spent 
And grandest schemes, are with his visions blent — 
To see the world, and know of men and things 
And feel he's great, is now the strain he sings; 
For his departure from his native land. 
All preparations are under his command, 
What he may need upon a journey long 
Is bought with care, and stored in boxes strong. 



To travel 'round the world would seem but sport. 
And on his way to shine in every court — 
To cross the bosom of the ocean wide. 
On stately ships that move with queenly pride — 
Or gHde among the islands of the far-off seas. 
And feel upon his cheek the balmy breeze — 
Or mingle with the throng, in the city's glare, 
Amid the wealth and grandeur, gathered there — 

To revel 'mid the bloom of sunny chmes, 

Or search the ruins of the olden times, 

Or rest beneath the palm, on sandy plains, 

Or climb the Alpine heights, where Winter reigns — 

The contemplation of these storied scenes, 

His thoughts from home and friends, so nearly 

weans. 
Save one, whose tender love absorbs him quite. 
Whose smile is dearer than the morning hght. 
452 



His heart is pierced with pointed shafts of love, 
While Cupid's bow, is resting just above — 
His bosom bleeds, he feels the stinging smart, 
'Tis painless rest to that which breaks her heart! 
A maiden's love, is all her wealth in store. 
And when she loves, she loves, but to adore! 
A tearless grief proclaims their last adieu 
With pHghted vows, to be forever true. 



Upon the morn of his one-and-twentieth year, 

He leaves his father's roof, without a tear, 

Yet one there is whose tears fall down like rain — 

Her son she fears she'll never see again; 

The parting scene quite breaks her loving heart, — 

His voice is trembling when they come to part, 

His eagerness is stronger than his grief — 

A flood of tears his mother's sole relief. 



The ship is waiting that must bear him hence. 
Panting with impatience — like a thing of sense, 
He steps on board — his heart is throbbing fast, 
One lingering look, upon the shore is cast — 
Farewells are said — a tear-drop dims his eye. 
The sunshine mild streams through a cloudless 

sky, 
The whistle shrieks — the bell is ringing too, 
While many a kerchief waves a last adieu. 

453 



How proudly on her way the ship proceeds! 
As o'er the laughing waters now she speeds, 
Her decks are peopled with a happy throng 
While May's mild breezes now their joys prolong — 
The city's tow'rs now fast recede from view, 
The ship glides swiftly o'er the water's blue, 
While native land and friends are left behind — 
To Neptune's care young Hesper 's now consigned. 



To him who ventures o'er the mighty deep, 
Beholding for the first, its billows leap 
In wildest grandeur, as they break and roar 
Must feel an awe, to 'whelm his spirit o'er; 
And thus the soul expands beyond the bound, 
In which its path had erst in life been found — ' 
Imbibing drafts from nature's purest source 
That gives it strength and hope, for its onward 
course. 



For full four days and nights she keeps her way. 
And ever yields her helm with gentle sway — 
Her cargo naught, save precious human life. 
Her decks and cabins know no fear or strife; 
For peace sits brooding o'er their little world. 
With ''happiness," upon her flag unfurled — 
As yet no ocean storm has crossed their path 
To whelm with fury, and display his wrath. 

454 



Upon a moonless night, with fog so dense, 
That all are dazed, and tremble in suspense, 
Just ere the dawn must rend the veil away 
A shock is felt that sickens with dismay, 
The ship has struck another, in her course. 
And both rebound, swayed by the mighty force — 
Her prow is rent, and with a fearful din. 
Like a seething flood, the water rushes in. 

Dire consternation seizes all on board, — 

The captain's voice above the tumult roared — 

*'The pumps! the pumps! ! now quick or all is 

lost," 
While quaking fears, their blighted hopes have 

crossed ; 
Young Hesper feels the fearful moment 's come, 
This peril seems to strike his senses dumb — 
Until again the voice, breathes in his ear, 
''Remember self-control, and never fear." 

And then a light seems flashing through his brain. 
While Hope returns, with strength and peace again, 
He labors at the pumps — with effort strong — 
The ship is righted, and proceeds her way along. 
When horror's ghastly form is flashed in view 
Before a happy throng, — 'tis strange, yet true. 
That some must sing, some shout, some kneel 

and pray, 
Some weep in silence — some no fears display. 

455 



Now Hesper lands upon a foreign shore — 
A city's winding ways, he's threading o'er, 
And grotesque forms doth see in many a place, 
And lines of wealth, and want, does often trace; 
He walks with wonder many storied halls. 
And views the splendors of their frescoed walls. 
And rapt attention gives to sculptured forms, 
That brings to view, a thousand graceful charms. 



He's trode the soil of Albion's sea-girt isle. 
And gazed with awe on many a classic pile — 
And stood before her fair and noble queen. 
And felt the glamour that must come between, 
When first the eye is privileged to behold 
The Royal Pageant glittering bright with gold; — 
When shouting thousands rend the slumb'rous air 
In paying homage to a scene so fair. 

He wends his way o'er Scotia's rock-bound shore. 
While scenes of grandeur thrill his spirit o'er — 
He views the spot where poets lie entombed 
And breathes in fragrance where the hawthorns 

bloomed. 
And rests in peace on joyous summer days 
To hear her living poets' lively lays; 
Then quits her shore with sorrow and regret 
For friends more pleasant he has seldom met. 
456 



He 's speeding onward over hill and plain, 
The hills with vines are clad, the vales with grain — 
A scene more lovely rarely meets the eye 
Of verdant plains, beneath a clear blue sky; 
He crosses shining rivers grand and wide, 
Where mountains gray look down from either side. 
Where Gallia's sun is shining free and clear 
And objects strange on every side appear. 



A city's grandeur opens to his gaze — 

Lutetia's treasured art before him lays. 

With admiration wild, he onward roams. 

Or stands transfixed beneath her gorgeous domes; 

Although her people speak a different tongue 

Her praises loud at every turn are sung, 

The charms that here his deepest feelings sway 

Have rose and fell for many a night and day. 



But once again he's traveUing o'er the land, 
To view the mountain scenery, bold and grand — 
To chmb the Alpine heights 'mid snow and frost 
And where among the rocks, his way is lost — 
Amid the snowy steeps with dire alarm 
To feel the fury of the blinding storm. 
And where he wanders many weary hours. 
Then sinks upon the snow, with wasted pow'rs. 

457 



A hardy mountaineer haply passed that way 
And finds him senseless at the close of day, 
Then on his stalwart shoulders bears him home, 
Amid the drifting snows and gathering gloom — 
Benumbed and chilled his outward senses dead, 
Then back to life by gentle warmth is led — 
With care the mountaineer performs his task, 
Then Hesper speaks — would for his mother ask. 



When once restored to consciousness and life, 
He tells the story of his toil and strife; 
The peasant listens with attentive ear. 
While he relates this vision, seen so clear : — 
"Methought I'd fallen on a bed of down. 
While softest sleep did all my senses drown — 
My mother's eyes were looking down in love 
And angel voices whispered just above — 



It seemed that spirit hands with love endowed. 
Had borne me far, as on a fleecy cloud — 
Afar o'er the sea, the hill and the plain, 
And back to my home, and my room again; 
And there I meet a happy joyous throng 
Who greet me with cheers, with laughter and song, 
And one^ most fair, with eyes aflame with love — 
She seems an angel from the spheres above! 
458 



Yet one there is whose smile I fail to meet, 
Whose presence now would make my joy com- 
plete — 
I call my mother in an earnest tone 
When lo ! I find myself with you alone — 
Come back to suffer — and the pangs I felt, 
As when a fever, quiv'ring sinews melt, 
But now I rest, my life to you I owe 
Who proves to be, the angel of the snow." 

Descending thence to sunny vales of light 

He views with awe those mounts of snowy white, 

But enters here Italia's smiling plain 

Where summer skies and golden sunshine reign. 

He feels the balmy air, with vital breath. 

Restore his spirits — brought so near to death — 

His anxious eyes are drinking in the scene. 

His heart pulsating with a joy serene. 

And now he rests in Rome, beside the tomb 
Of fallen greatness, buried deep in gloom — 
From the Palatine he views her ruins o'er, 
Where Romulus stood three thousand years before; 
Then gazes spell-bound, on her works of art, 
Those gems of beauty, coined from out the 

heart ! 
Each day perceives the expansion of his mind, 
As more he learns concerning humankind. 

459 



At night he walks among her ruins grand — 
Where moonbeams fall in many a silver band, 
The weird-like scene, oppressive to the brain 
Flows back the pageant's hale and ghastly train — 
The shades of fallen heroes — sages wise 
In grand procession pass before his eyes — 
A countless throng, and with uneven pace, 
With sorrow, joy, peace, or hate, on every face. 

They come, and then as quickly pass away. 
When from a niche, a voice, now seems to say: 
"When empires rise with power to rule the world. 
And Liberty ! is from her temple hurled — 
When milHons toil to elevate the few — 
And millions bleed, whom tyrants would subdue, 
When fondest love, to fiendish hate has turned, 
And hope in life to ashes cold has burned, 

Then thrones must crumble, mingling with the 

dust, 
And crowns and scepters, waste away with rust; 
Whence empires new arise — the abodes of peace, 
Where freedom reigns, and love and hope in- 
crease — 
These scenes I love, with a lover's yearning heart. 
And of the "Eternal City," am a part — 
I saw these walls, to proudest temples rise 
Then saw them crumble, toppling from the skies." 
460 



Then silence reigned — and Hesper, pensive stood, 

Enchanted with awe, in utter sohtude — 

Where long he mused — his thoughts flew fast the 

while, 
Then bent his footstep from the massive pile; 
And thence to classic Greece, his way pursues, 
And treads Parnassus, sacred to the Muse! 
Where Delphic oracles in ages past. 
Were wont their magic, o'er the mind to cast. 



He revels 'mid those scenes of Grecia's pride 
Where inspiration flowed from every side — 
Where Athen's storied walls in grandeur woke. 
And Socrates, his words of wisdom spoke — 
The burning words, that kindled Grecian hate! 
Till prison walls beheld a hero's fate. 
The foulest blot, that stains her honored name! 
While adding luster to the sage's fame. 



O thou fair land, of other lands the pride! 
Where Liberty, and Love, did erst abide — 
The mother who gave learning noble birth. 
The light of which beamed o'er a darkened earth — 
The nurse of sages, in thy ancient prime — 
A fair oasis in a desert clime! — 
Till cruel war had drenched thy fields in gore, 
And desolation swept thy altars o'er. 
461 



The summer's softest air sleeps on the wave 
In all the loveliness that heart could crave, 
The ship is ghding o'er a sea of glass, 
While on the deck sits Hesper, — time doth pass 
As when a dream, with sweet enchanting spell 
Has borne the fancy, far over stream and fell — 
When lo! appears Hke magic, high in air 
A mountain bold, with all its seeming, there; 

But stands inverted — crags are pointed down, 
And near its base, in shimm'ring light, a town 
That seems to point its turrets to the sea — 
Amid the glare — how strange such things could 

be! 
This scene so strange and new, strikes Hesper 

dumb. 
While others fear the end of Time has come — 
Their breath so quick and short, a moment drawn 
Then Fata Morgana was come, and gone! 

Now Hesper sails o'er summer seas away — 
The night with music lulled — sunshine gilds the 

day. 
His soul serene, in softest ether floats 
Sees phantoms bright, pass by in fairy boats — 
Among those islands of the southern seas. 
He breathes with joy the incense-laden breeze — 
While birds of beauty, decked in plumage fair 
Are singing sweetly, through the glowing air. 
462 



Full many a ship has kept her course 
Before a breeze, that moves with gentle force — 
Full many a day has Hesper's heart been light, 
While scenes enchanting, pass before his sight; 
A tempest now with fury cleaves the main. 
While clouds and darkness o'er the tempest reign - 
The lightning flash, the thunder's awful, roar, 
And drenching all, the floods in torrents pour: 



The winds increase — the waves in fury rise — 
Before the gale, the ship in terror flies, 
And on, and on, she flies, with riven sail 
While winds terrific through her rigging wail; 
At length Despair had seized the faithful crew. 
And Hesper now had bid the world adieu — 
When once again, is whispered in his soul, 
''Have courage now — remember self-control." 



The ship is dashed against a rocky shore — 
Still darkness reigns — and still the breakers roar! 
The sailors cHnging to the broken mast — 
When joyous dawn, breaks o'er the wreck at last 
The angel Hope, upon his shining car! 
Finds Hesper lashed securely to a spar — 
The wind has lulled — the shore 's not far away. 
Where frowning rocks, are frosted o'er with spray. 

463 



The ship sinks down beneath the angry wave 
And all, save three, have found a watery grave. 
And they have strength to barely reach the strand 
Which proves to be a wild and rugged land; 
No human life is found upon its soil 
And they subsist, but by severest toil — 
For thirty days they brave this living death. 
When one at last yields up his dying breath. 

When on the thirty-first, a sail appears! 

Their hearts are filled with joy — their eyes with 

tears — 
The lookout sees the signal raised on shore 
And Hesper now is on the wave once more, 
But many a month had flown ere strength returned. 
And health, and hope, within his bosom burned — 
The ship was bound for India's shores sublime. 
Returning thence to Albion's favored chme. 

While Hesper's thoughts still dwell on that dread 

night, 
(Such terrors must the strongest soul affright — ) 
The VOICE that whispered to him through the wind 
Leaves yet, the strongest impress on his mind — 
The magic words, "Remember self-control," 
Are like a balm to soothe his troubled soul; 
Dear thoughts of home come thronging through 

his brain 
And in his dreams, soft eyes are seen again. 
464 



While in his heart he feels no vain regret, 
He thinks in trouble, home 's the best place yet, 
But rests content, till health returns again 
When Hope, and Strength, resume their wonted 

reign : 
O'er India's sunny plains his way he threads, 
Or through her deepest, darkest, jungles treads 
Or where the Ganges pours its mighty tide, 
Or on the snow-clad mountain, doth abide. 

His way lies o'er Arabia's desert plain, 
Where burning sands never felt the touch of rain. 
Where stalks the simoom through the fiery air, 
Menacing all with death, who enter there: — 
The camel only can his force withstand 
His nostrils closing 'gainst the driving sand! 
He bears his burdens bravely o'er the waste. 
Nor food nor drink for many a day may taste. 

Then where the Nile its turbid waters pour, 
Or on the glassy lake — or on its pebbly shore — 
Or 'neath the shade of Afric's tow'ring palm 
Where rest and sleep come like a healing balm — 
To dream perchance, of home and distant friends, 
And feel the charm that friendship ever lends — 
To grasp the hand that speaks of love so warm 
And there to wake, at terror's dire alarm. 
465 



He faced the lion in his native wood, 
And met the tiger, thirsting for his blood — 
The panther heard, far from the haunts of men, 
And roused the Python from his rocky den — 
The native tribes of men he came to know. 
Who naked dwell, amid the summer's glow — 
He traced the ruins many a weary day. 
Then from the coast, he gladly sails away. 



And o'er the seas, across earth's central line, 

Where gleaming skies, in all their fervor shine — 

He sails the wat'ry waste, 'neath this fiery glare 

For many leagues, — past many an island fair; 

Again he lands on India's peopled shore. 

And rests in peace, beyond the surge's roar — 

For many days within the city's gates 

To learn the people's ways, their loves, and hates. 



He ponders well their manners, customs, laws, 
And sees how nations differ, and the cause — 
Why climate, race, religion, all combined, 
Conspire to make the difference in mankind — 
Where freedom, culture, and a bracing air. 
Have each for men performed their proper share, 
We then heboid, their potencies outwrought 
And men arise, to most stupendous thought. 
466 



He quits the precincts of the city's surge 
To pierce the Orient to its farthest verge, 
To view the splendors, here so richly spread 
O'er the Flow'ry Kingdom — by enchantment led 
To rest, or roam, beneath celestial skies 
While objects strange oft pass before his eyes — 
To meet the stolid gaze, of eyes oblique, 
That lack the fire, of either Jew, or Greek. 

His course pursues toward the rising sun — 
Full many a month, since he this course begun. 
His taste for travel, that was keen at first 
Is slackened now, as water quenches thirst: 
Now the Orient's, ultima Thule passed, 
His thoughts on home and native land are cast — 
Toward the west his face he ever turns 
While love of home, again his bosom burns. 

He thought to cross Siberia's waste of snow 
Then rest beside the Jordan's sullen flow. 
And glide iipon Euphrates' sparkling wave. 
Or tread the barren shores the Dead Sea lave. 
And gaze upon Jerusalem's fallen fanes, 
Where desolation wild forever reigns; 
Or cHmb the mount where once the cross had 

stood — 
View Hinnom's vale, where rested nothing good. 
467 



But travel-worn, and weary — black with tan — 
Foregoes at length, those hallowed scenes to scan, 
Embarks again upon the rolling deep 
His eastward course around the world to keep; 
Now smihng Hope, appears on silken wings, 
And flies with Hesper, while she sweetly sings — 
May prosp'rous gales attend his home-bound 

bark. 
And waft him safely o'er the waters dark! 

*Tis three years now, since he hath left his home 
With eager thoughts around the world to roam. 
His thirst for travel now at length is sate — 
His fortunes fair, have lent a hue to fate! 
These years in foreign lands, have trained his 

mind, 
And brought to view, a knowledge of mankind, 
That better fits him, now to enter Hfe, 
With toughened fiber, to endure its strife. 

Aboard the ship he breathes the balm or rest 
While gliding o'er the broad Pacific's breast; 
And fixed on home his thoughts are busy now — 
In dreams sees one, with calm angelic brow; 
She, feels a thrill along her arteries burn. 
When tidings come that he will soon return — 
And two fond hearts unite to part no more, 
And separation's bitter pangs be o'er. 
468 



To smiling Neptune, and Eolus too, 
Returns his thanks, and now bids both adieu — 
Has passed the precincts of the Golden Gate 
With flashing eye beholds the Golden State! 
With joy once more he breathes his native air — 
Views azure skies, and valleys green and fair. 
Then sends a message flashing o'er the Une 
That gives to waiting hearts a thrill divine. 



Our native land, so dear to every heart! 
Its warmest glow does to his soul impart. 
He feels its glamour penetrate his soul — 
Its sweetest charms, before his vision roll. 
He feels that none can truly value home 
'Till absent from it, they're compelled to roam, 
Or feel the joy that pours through every vein. 
When once on shore, from off the rolling main. 



'Tis night, yet all is action — all awake, 
In a mansion, near the City of the Lake — 
A hundred Hghts are gleaming brighter there 
Through hall and parlor, of this mansion fair — 
A glad expectant throng, clad in rich attire. 
With beaming eyes, that speak of love's desire — 
A feast is spread, while music charms the night — 
Hearts aflame with joy, and cheeks are rosy bright. 
469 



'Tis June, and roses deck the moonlit bow'r, 
While fragrance sweet, distills from every flow'r — 
The balmy air is whispering through the leaves, 
While fairies sing beneath the bending eaves — 
The dew-drops sparkle on the yielding grass 
And dance with glee, when laughing zephyrs pass. 
The stars are twinkling in the blue above, 
While with herself, Dame Nature seems in love. 



One blooming fair, among this happy throng, 
Now counts the moments, as they flow along. 
With bated breath — her heart is throbbing fast — 
Upon the dial oft her eyes are cast; 
While expectation now is tow'ring high 
And hope is glancing from each restless eye; 
The clock strikes ten — still music fills the dome 
With swelling notes, to welcome Hesper home. 

''He comes! he comes!" rings forth an earnest 

voice. 
He steps within — and many souls rejoice. 
Wild acclamations meet him at the door. 
And fondest greetings whelm him o'er and o'er — 
A joyous tumult, sweeps his flaming soul. 
Emotions rise too strong for his control — 
He laughs and weeps, to meet this grand surprise, 
Nor can his friends restrain their flowing eyes. 

470 



The hours of night had well nigh flown away, . 
Ere sleep and rest resumed their wanted sway; 
And Imogene (for that's his lover's name), 
Beheld the dawn, as from the east it came — 
While Hesper's joy at meeting one so dear, 
Seems like a dream of bliss, in some bright sphere — 
When balmy sleep is sought, and wooed in vain. 
A thousand thoughts rush wildly through his brain! 



But now at rest, and never more to roam. 

He breathes the joys that give a charm to home. 

No other spot can e'er to him impart 

Th' extatic joys that soothe his glowing heart — 

The morning smiles to view his pure delight. 

And noon rejoices 'mid his glories bright! 

The moonlit evenings dance to see his joy, 

While Midnight shades his peace do not destroy! 



Thus day and night a glowing vision seem. 
No waves of woe upon the glassy stream! 
While Imogene, whose home is near his own, 
Shares too the joys to which her heart is prone. 
This opulence of love between the pair. 
Is heightened by the sumrrrer's softest air; 
And many an hour of purest joy serene 
Now weds their souls, without a thought between. 

471 



His mother's heart is kindled warm with love, 
And for his safe return thanks the God above! 
Each day with joy beholds his manly face, 
And marks with pride his elegance and grace: 
Her hopes and prayers for him have ever been, 
No seeds of vice his heart should enter in — 
With fondest hopes she views his noble form, 
While all her tenderness is glowing warm. 



The love of Hesper's heart, so deep and strong. 
Is Hke a mighty stream that flows along — 
The love that sweeps the soul of Imogene, 
Is Hke the breath of morn, so pure, serene! — 
The day is fixed, on which their hopes are set — 
No shadow dark has crossed their pathway yet. 
The coming years seem clothed in robes of light, 
And Hope stands smihng like an angel bright. 



Where opposites unite in case Hke this. 
Then adaptation brings its meed of bliss. 
For she's a blond with eyes of blue, and fair, 
And he has hazel eyes and auburn hair; 
A union blest by nature's perfect laws. 
And lasting as its sacred primal cause — 
Two souls that blend like kindred drops in one. 
With love subhme, and constant as the sun. 

472 



His years of absence on a foreign shore, 
Give zest and appetite to Love's sweet lore; 
Here naught prevents, and only love controls, 
The web that's woven 'round their love-hnked 

souls — 
A summer's day is passing like a dream, 
Their hearts o'erflow with joy and love supreme, 
And seated 'neath an arbor's grateful shade, 
Their vows of Constance once again are made. 



While seated thus a cloud obscures the sun. 
The lightning flashed! its fatal work is done. 
For Imogene Hes lifeless on the ground, 
And Hesper senseless, by his friends is found, 
But soon revives, to learn with deepest pain, 
The fiery bolt his Imogene hath slain — 
Now crazed with grief, he weeps his soul away. 
And prostrate lies for many a weary day. 



And many a night, when sleep had fled afar. 
It seemed the gates of heaven were left ajar — 
For then the voice was whispered in his ear. 
That soothed his bleeding heart and gave him cheer. 
Repining then no longer at his fate. 
He blest the angel from the shining gate. 
And felt the balm of peace shed on his soul 
With all the blessed fruits of self-control. 

473 



Ah! gentle reader of my humble Muse, 
We've followed where her devious way pursues — 
We've followed Hesper through her lab 'ring verse — 
Through smiHng vales and Fortune's bitter curse; 
We left him prostrate on a couch of pain, 
When sorrow's bitter cup was forced to drain. 
And where a visitant from the blest abode, 
Had lifted from his heart the griveous load. 



Now years have passed since last we of him spoke. 
And told the story of this direful stroke, 
And now at length his third decade is past. 
And Health, and Hope, returned again at last — 
Long since we've told his many youthful schemes 
That flashed so bright, then vanished with his 

dreams. 
That in a troop chased each other fast. 
Yet swayed his brain a moment as they passed. 

He pondered long on what should be his work — 

And then became at last a merchant's clerk. 

Amid a mighty city's glare and din — 

His daily life by marble walls shut in; 

His daily duties he performs with care. 

And gains the love of all who know him there — 

The ways of city hfe he soon discerns. 

But to his home so dear, he oft returns; 

474 



Where oft his thoughts revert to that sad day 
Where Imogene, by Fate, was torn away, 
But grieves no longer o'er the sad event. 
And yields his being up to sweet content — 
Yet thinks no more he'll see a face so fair 
As hers, that smiled so sweetly on him there — 
He hears her voice, sometimes in sweetest dreams. 
Her loving smile then like an angel's seems. 



A house of wholesale 'tis where he's enrolled - 
And merchandise by millions here is sold! 
And as a faithful servant is awarded there, 
A first position, for his patient care — 
An expert truly, at the merchant's trade! 
Has burdens heavy on his shoulders laid. 
Found ever faithful to the trust reposed — 
Unbroken ranks of friends around him closed. 



Then honored by a partner's place at last, 
A brighter halo o'er his future's cast. 
And once again his Hfe flows nobly on. 
Yet feels the loss of one forever gone! 
And thus to cheer his loneliness of life 
He deems it prudent now to take a wife. 
Among the fair oft meets a lovely face 
Endowed with beauty, sprightHness and grace. 

475 



He woes and wins this charming lady's heart 
His wounded love no longer feels the smart! 
They wed and live, in grand luxurious style, 
Rejoicing now beneath good Fortune's smile — 
He feels his sun of happiness so bright 
Has burst at length upon his longing sight. 
And by its warmth the flowers of beauty rise, 
In grandeur now to meet his sparkling eyes. 



The world at last its richest treasures bring. 
And Hope again has spread her downy wing — 
The Past is gone, and with it dark regret — 
His bow of promise spans the future yet! 
Stupendous schemes his mind doth now pursue. 
With higher mounts of happiness in view. 
His many friends stand firmly by his side, 
And favors sought have never been denied. 



He's now the sole survivor of the firm. 

Where first engaged upon a trial term. 

A thousand towns pay tribute to his trade — 

A thousand more where merchandise is made. 

He treads the ways of business firm and bold — 

Alladdin-hke turns all things into gold. 

While honors crowd upon his well-known name. 

As through the nation's councils spreads his fame. 

476 



Full many years his life has smoothly run, 

And Fortune's smiles were bright as summer's sun. 

His friends were warm and true — few indeed his 

foes, 
Every day was brightness — night brought calm 

repose. 
His home a marble mansion, free from strife, 
His wealth and fame shared by his prudent wife — 
While o'er life's peopled pathway, far they've went, 
And now twice twenty years of Hesper's life is 

spent. 

Yet while- his course has run so smoothly on, 
And many happy years have come and gone — 
Domestic life has been a dream of peace — 
The golden stream has flowed but to increase — 
Despite all this, his thoughts sometimes return 
With all the warmth his bosom erst did burn — 
His early love for one^ his heart doth melt 
With all the tenderness he once had felt. 

Some portent dark athwart his soul doth sweep. 
And phantom-like, invades his peaceful sleep. 
He feels the force of some misfortune dire 
Pour through his being Hke consuming fire! 
In much alarm, his mind is ill at rest. 
While apprehension smites his throbbing breast — 
But hears in dreams, the voice of Imogene, 
Then peace returns with smiling face serene. 

477 



As onward through life's checkered scenes we glide, 
Where hopes and fears, or smiles and tears, abide — 
We rest not on the bosom of the stream 
But weep in woe, or smile in joy's bright beam! 
When golden sunshine spreads our pathway o'er, 
We fear not then, the tempest's dreadful roar, 
Until it breaks, upon the horizon's bound. 
When brooding fears, soon darken all around. 

When Fortune smiles, and Eolus seems asleep, 
Our bark glides gaily o'er the mighty deep; 
We think not of the lightning's sudden stroke — 
The earthquake's thundering tones are never spoke; 
But soon the clouds may blot out smiling skies, 
And blinding storms, in all their fury rise. 
And sweeping cyclones strew the peaceful land. 
And wrecks pile high upon the surf -beat strand. 

'Tis midnight's hour — when elves are wont to 

roam. 
But Peace sits smiling now in Hesper's home! 
The pealing bell has tolled the dying hour, 
And now at rest in yonder lofty tower; 
A million hearts are throbbing softly there — 
A city sleeps — with dreams divinely fair — 
The watchman's cheery cry is, "all is well," 
And Autumn's Night, breathes 'round her witch- 
ing spell. 

478 



When lo! a sea of fire bursts on the sight, 
And wails of anguish rend the ear of night. 
The multitude from sweet repose are driven, 
While floods of flame Hght up the glaring heaven ! 
And homeless wand'rers throng the water's side 
To escape the fury of this seething tide — 
The fiery billows through the city pour, 
Distraying all, with fierce terrific roar. 

Now Hesper's sun (Hke twice ten thousand more 
Whose homes and wealth by fire has been swept 

o'er) 
Has set in gloom— bright hopes to ashes turned! 
And all his well earned- wealth, to cinders burned. 
In ruins now one-half the city Hes — 
The grandest waste e'er met by mortal eyes! 
The skies, once bright, are deep involved in smoke. 
When dark despair in wailing accents broke! 

'Tis said that e'er must Fortune's wheel turn round. 
Thus raising some on high, some casting on the 

ground — 
Uncertainty, is fixed in human fate! 
We bask in smiles, or writhe in fiendish hate. 
To-day man's hopes shine forth in bright array- 
To-morrow's sun may send them all away! 
Thus do we pass through fights and shades along, 
Swept ever on in life's unebbing throng. 

479 



Now Hesper pines within a dungeon's gloom — 

In tears bewails his unrelenting doom! 

With dark reflections, tinged by wild despair — 

A night, to gray, has changed his auburn hair! 

And slowly pass the weary hours away, 

He scarce discerns, when comes the night, or day! 

Thus from the utmost heights of human bliss! 

Sinks in the lowest depths of the dark abyss. 



While thus he speaks: ''O God! how dark and cold, 
The blackness now that doth my being fold — 
The light and joy of life from me have flown, 
And Hope is dead — whose face so brightly shone. 
And dying, too, now from this world I '11 go 
And leave behind this wretchedness and woe! 
My willing hand, this sweet relief can bring 
And quickly free me from this mortal sting. 



" O why this fate ? I've thought no one to wrong — 
And why should I this wretched life prolong? 
This Hfe, 'tis sure belongs to me alone. 
And what is mine, I'll do with as my own." 
In bitterness he feels he has no friend. 
And while his hand is raised his hfe to end — 
The VOICE again is heard, so soft and clear. 
That bids him "hold," and soothes away his fear, 

480 



The VOICE appears in sorrow's dirful hour, 

That rends the veil, and lends him saving power — 

The pall that hung so darkly o'er his soul 

Is lifted now, and light regains control. 

He feels that life for noble use is given, 

And clothed in splendors from the bending heaven 

While, in his heart, he thanks the angel-voice 

That spoke the word to make his soul rejoice. 



He lingers long within this dark abode 

But strives to bear grim sorrow's heavy load — 

To languish thus his weary life away. 

He feels a debt, unjust for him to pay — 

His form is bent, emaciated his face. 

His smitten soul shrinks from this dark disgrace. 

The happy past now rises like a dream. 

And, through the shadows, casts a fitful gleam. 



The law, at length, has fixed his sentence well, 
And Hesper's home is now a convict's cell — 
The convict's garb he's now compelled to wear - 
The convict's labor, too, he 's doomed to share, 
To mingle with the vile abandoned throng 
Where Degradations stalks with Blight along. 
While Degradation bites deep in his soul. 
And Sorrow's billows, darkly o'er him roll. 



A friend he had, who oft his sponsor stood, 
Although at bank his name alone, was good; 
But now this friend was absent from his home, 
(He wandered 'mid the scenes of storied Rome — ) 
Five thousand dollars, Hesper needs must pay. 
To meet demands admitting no delay — 
The day preceding which the fire-fiend came — 
He drew the note, and signed his sponsor's name. 



But thought to redeem it ere his friend's return — 

(But who the future ever can discern?) 

For like a flash the fire swept all away — 

This fatal note, his sponsor had to pay, 

And as misfortunes never come alone. 

And friendships wane when wealth from us has 

flown. 
This friend became a bitter foe instead. 
And vengeance wreaks on Hesper 's helpless head. 



How cold and dead, like stone, his lonely heart! 
While degradation chills each vital part, 
His life seems crushed, beneath a mountain's weight, 
Consuming anguish mocks his former state! 
Now buried deep, within thick prison walls. 
No voice of kindness, e'er for mercy calls; — 
As when thick gloom, is o'er bright sunshine cast. 
His fifth decade is now in darkness passed. 
482 



While Hesper thus bewails his prison life, 
We turn to view his pale and dying wife; 
The dreadful shock was more than she could bear, 
She's sinking fast, beneath this load of care — 
Her mind a blank, the Hght of reason fled. 
She soon finds rest among the early dead. 
Two children dear she leaves in stranger hands 
To wander lone, as waifs, in foreign lands; 



But vice and pain, overtake them in their course. 
And then disease, with unremitting force — 
And soon they droop, as flowers cut down byfrost, 
And find repose beyond this wintry coast; 
And thus are gone, poor Hesper's kindred all. 
And yet he hngers, neath the prison wall 
And feels that nothing worse can ever come. 
And bears his sorrow now in silence dumb. 



'Tis true, no crime, was ever his intent. 
And yet, a coloring this false action lent, — 
And still the more does shame burn in his soul 
Than if dark deeds, had held him 'neath control — 
But now, since all his worldly hopes have fled, 
Ambition's lofty aims He scattered with the dead — 
And long reflections settled into calm. 
Sweet resignation brings its heahng balm. 

483 



When night hath spread her sable garment 'round, 
Within his lonely cell, is Hesper found! — 
Then childhood's happy hours flow back again. 
While Light and Joy come smiling in their train — 
His mother's loving voice again he hears — 
His comrade's ringing laughter, smites his ears — 
Lives o'er again, the happy days of youth 
So full of joy, of innocence, and truth. 



And, amid the silent watches of the night, 

A form appears, in smiling radiance bright. 

The tender admonitions of his mother kind 

Return in force, and dominates his mind. 

He feels her presence like a wave of bliss. 

From the world of light to the depths in this — 

This angelic presence, beaming on him there, 

Seems a bow of promise, shining through despair! 



Sometimes another form, beautiful and sweet 
Lights the gloomy darkness of his lone retreat; 
Then he thinks the vision fairest ever seen — 
Feels the loving presence of his Imogene. 
For a season, then, forgets his anguished soul, 
Yielding up his being to her sweet control — 
Entrancement holy, bears him far away 
From gloom and darkness into perfect day. 

484 



Thus Day drags on, his dull laborious hours, 
While Night brings forth, her grand angelic powers, 
And now he feels, within his narrow cell, 
The loved, and lost, come there with him to dwell. 
And bring him hope and strength his lot to bear. 
Showing visions bright, beyond this vale of care — 
Where Hope stands singing, to his longing soul, 
And clouds of darkness from his vision roll. 



Th' unfolding of the spirit's inner powers. 
Through darkness comes, in sorrow's doleful hours, 
Thus reaching upward for the spiritual light. 
As plants bend forward for the sunshine bright — 
The thirsty soul drinks from immortal springs 
A nectar sweet that heals its mortal stings! — 
The spirit rises to serener heights. 
Above the worldly dross of sensual delights. 



Yes, even here, shut in with walls of stone, 
His loved ones come, he's never all alone! 
A mission grand, not born of base desire — 
A gleam of light from Love's immortal fire! 
But now his term is drawing to its close. 
While consolation brightened all his woes — 
A sweet content has dried his flowing tears — 
And now at length attains his three-score years. 

485 



Again he's free to ramble o'er the earth, 
Resolves at once to quit his place of birth. 
There's nothing left to bind him to the spot! 
A home with strangers, now shall be his lot; 
A tear he drops, besides his childhood's home — 
The wand'rer then again proceeds to roam. 
And long he travels o'er his native land, 
At last he rests upon her western strand. 

Now "Age and Want," have come — an "ill 

matched pair !" 
To sit by sorrow's leaden load — waiting there — 
His daily bread he seeks by honest means. 
Reflecting oft upon his former scenes, 
But not repining o'er his bitter fate — 
New friends he finds within the Golden State, 
And 'neath the city's roofs, beside the bay. 
He woes well-earned repose full many a day. 

As ghding swiftly down Hfe's steep dechne. 

He hears the voice still speaking words divine — 

The cheering voice that came in early hfe, 

And buoyed him up when came its fearful strife. 

Still plainer now this voice sounds in his ears. 

And of the thick'ning shades bids him have no 

fears — 
Points to sunny vales, beyond the river dark, 
And o'er its turbid waves, will guide his bark. 

486 



The change of air, and freedom's holy balm, 
Have brought him strength, and now his soul is 

calm — 
Amid the scenes, to him, so strange and new 
He lives in peace, his calHng to pursue — 
The calling learned beneath the prison sway. 
Which brings him bread sufficient for each day 
And often where the sacred circle meet. 
He bends his way, his angel — ones to greet. 



And thus his life is passing swift along, 
Adown the stream to join the mighty throng. 
Who rest in peace beyond the shores of Time, 
In blissful homes within the radiant clime; 
And forward now his gaze doth ever turn 
The dim and mystic future to discern — 
The Past is gone, and perished, vain regret. 
The Future waits, with deep unfoldings yet. 

He bends beneath the weary weight of years, 
And oft in dreams the "shining shore" appears — 
When night hath drawn her curtains round his bed, 
Entranced he lays, as rigid as the dead, 
While angel forms, in love are standing there. 
To bear his soul far through the etherial air — 
To view the splendors of their mansions bright 
That gHtter softly in the lambent light. 

487 



The rosy rays of life's calm evening now 
Are beaming soft, on Hesper's pensive brow — 
Some years have passed beneath its golden sheen, 
His soul at rest in confidence serene — 
He feels the coolness of the evening breeze. 
That murmurs sweetly through the trembling trees. 
The sun's meridian's heat is past and gone. 
And twilight's peaceful shades fast coming on. 

Although his life's been marked by changes vast — 
Through light intense, or shadows deep, has passed — 
Had kindest friends, and all that wealth could 

buy, 
His wealth takes wings, his kindred droop and 

die — 
He sings upon the mountain-top of peace. 
Or in the valley, groans without surcease — 
Enjoyed and suffered full more than other men, 
Yet lives to see full three-score years and ten. • 

The frost of age, has gathered 'round his head. 
While manhood's strength his weary Hmbs has 

fled — 
He sits in shadows to dream of the Past — 
The river of Hfe flowing swifter at last! 
His thoughts take the hue of somber and gray — 
But VOICES are cheering him "over the way!" — 
His labor of life is nearing its end. 
While Hght and hope the good Father doth send. 



Disease, at length, assails with ruthless sway. 
And scourged with pain, he longs to pass away — 
The feverish dream is drawing to its close. 
And, trembling on its verge, sinks in deep repose; 
And then a calm steals softly o'er his soul, 
While grandest visions now before it roll — 
A radiance bright illuminates his brain. 
And smiling joy has borne away his pain! 



The fateful hour of midnight draweth nigh, 
He, pale upon his dying couch, doth lie — 
A faithful friend is watching by his bed. 
Who thinks at last the vital spark hath fled. 
He hes so still, no sign of pulse or breath. 
His watcher fears he's passed the gates of death, 
When suddenly his eyes are opened wide — 
And startled is the watcher by his side ! 



A band of angels from the spheres above. 
With anxious faces, yet aflame with love. 
Are watching, too, beside the form of clay, 
To guide his spirit to the realms of day; 
When Hesper long had gazed upon the scene. 
He whispered softly — '^Mother, — 'Tmogene!" 
Again his eyes are closed, and all around. 
Deep silence reigned oppressive and profound. 

489 



Above the form, within that silent room, 
They watch the spirit bursting into bloom — 
Behold it born, in strength and beauty there, 
From out the body, worn with toil and care; 
And smiHng now his loving friends to know; 
He turns his gaze upon the form below — 
The worn-out casket, of the human soul! 
Whose vital breath no longer doth control. 

And now complete, he finds this glorious birth, 
And smiHng gladly, bids farewell to earth: — 
On "rivers of light," then they quickly embark 
That move as the hghtning from clouds that are 

dark, 
And swiftly through space, immeasureably wide, 
Arrive at their home, where joy doth abide — 
While Hesper and Imogene, blest in their love, 
Now rest in her bower, long ready above. 

A mortal life has swept before our view, 

And passed the bourne its purpose to pursue — 

Has left the precincts of this world of sense 

To mount the pathway of the grand immense — 

To meet the good and wise of ages past. 

And learn the law of progress to the last — 

Where Love and Wisdom reign with might 

supreme. 
And shed their golden rays o'er Hfe's sweet dreams. 

490 



PART III 
THE MYSTIC SHORE. 

Upward struggling through the dark and misty 

past, 
Against the shadows o'er his pathway cast — 
Man's living, fearful thought, has ever been, 
To know if after death we live again. 



"Does death end all?" the soul cries out 

When comes the "boatman pale " — 
Comes ringing down the course of Time, 

But answered with a wail! 
The footfalls on the "Mystic Shore," 

Drop sweet on waiting ears — 
Soft echo through the trembHng soul, 

Dispelling doubts and fear. 



Assurance sweet as angel's voice, 

In accents dear as love, 
Sometimes descends from shining spheres 

Of Hope and Life above; 
And fills the heart with joy supreme — 

As pure as angel's breath — 
That wafts our bark in safety o'er 

The phantom-river Death! 
491 



This hope had Hesper in his soul, 

To light him through the shade — 
He went not hke the slave of fear 

In terrors dark arrayed; 
But like the glittering orb of morn, 

Arrayed in raiment bright 
And smiling, to his bower of rest 

Arose with dear deUght. 



Fair visions of the abodes of peace 

Had cheered him through the gloom. 
When age had dimmed his mortal sight 

And gone was manhood's bloom — 
Th' unfolding of the inner sense, 

With prospect grand and clear! — 
Exalted him to sunny heights 

Above the realm of fear! 



So, when the mortal hour had come. 

And earth was fading fast. 
This Hght broke clearly on his soul. 

Instead of sorrow's blast. 
And round his dying pillow breathed 

The ones, he loved to know, 
And they rejoice to waft him home — 

Rejoiced was he to go! 

492 



And now within that radiant realm 

He breathes the vital air, 
Where splendors dazzle 'mid the glow 

Of love divinely fair; 
Each day brings forth fresh life and strength 

With forces ever new, 
While resting 'neath the rosy bower, 

Of Imogene so true. 



United now for evermore 

With one he lost on earth — 
The one designed by Nature's God,- 

The hour of nature's birth! 
And he for her designed as well, 

By Love's unbounded sway — 
While each the other lives to bless, 

Through Life's unending day. 



Young manhood's strength is here renewed 

Its bloom is on his brow. 
It pulsates through his glowing veins 

And thrills his being now — 
Old age lies buried in the tomb — 

A body new is given! 
That knows not waste, nor feels decay — 

Enduring as the heaven! 

493 



Etherial is this body pure 

But yet, substantial seems, 
And fashioned like the one of flesh, 

In manhood's brightest dreams. 
With all the organs of the old — 

Their vigor now renewed — 
With faculties not known before. 

His soul's to be indued. 



His guardian now is Imogene — 

An angel pure and bright! 
Who panoplied in love's soft flame. 

Infills his soul with Kght; 
Enraptured by this psychic wane. 

That swells with dazzling beam — 
His soul is borne to grandest heights. 

To scan life's wondrous scheme. 



This exaltation of his soul, 

'Neath psychologic sway 
Unfolds the mystic scroll of life 

Its wonders to display! 
He reads upon its hghted page. 

The problem clear and bright! 
He feels its force — its grandeur sees. 

In forms of Hving Hght. 

494 



A retrospection of the past, 

Now rises like a dream — 
His infancy and childhood dear, 

Before his vision gleam; 
Those tender years of early hfe - 

Those bright and happy days! 
In mem'ry's vivid pictures pass 

Before his earnest gaze. 



Then youth and manhood's golden hours. 

Pass swift before his sight 
With all their thought and feeling placed, 

Beneath the strongest Hght — 
While mem'rys' faded pictures shine 

In colors bright arrayed. 
And every hidden act appears 

Before his view displayed. 



A wondrous awe his being thrills. 

To thus behold his life — 
Its hopes and fears, its smiles and tears 

Its sunshine, and its strife — 
To thus behold each silent thought 

In majesty arise — 
Like gHttering pageants in a dream, 

O'erwhehning with surprise! 

495 



His thoughts seem colored dark or bright — 

Like magic they unfold! 
And some do glow as sparks of fire, 

And some are icy cold — 
And some awake extatic joys! 

And some appall with fear! 
But all to his illumined soul, 

Intensified and clear! 



He sees devouring flames consume 

The city of his pride — 
His weeping babes for aid implore, 

That aid he sees denied — 
Then fell Misfortune's days of gloom 

Pass dark before his face. 
He feels again the pointed pangs — 

The biting, black disgrace! 



He sees his wife of prosperous days — 

To sorrow yet unknown; 
Then hears her shriek in terrors dark 

When reason's light had flown — 
They stand before his shrinking gaze 

In haggard aspect sore, 
Then drop into the sullen waves, 

And sink to rise no more. 
496 



Then trembling Age, with firrrowed cheek, 

And locks of driven snow — 
His staff in hand, is tot'ring past 

With feeble steps and slow, 
His form is bent, his eyes are dim, 

He moves with falt'ring tread — 
His gaze fixed on the "Mystic Shore," 

Where all his hopes have fled. 



He feels the hour is drawing nigh. 

To bid farewell to earth — 
With joy beholds the prospect dear. 

That gives his spirit birth — 
He feels the hand of Providence, 

In Sorrow's chilhng breath — 
And sees the Mercy Angel stand. 

Beside the couch of Death! 



Then in his vision sees his soul. 

Emerge from out the clay — 
Then by its kindred from the skies, 

In gladness borne away 
Far o'er the amber fields of light. 

To rest in peace secure, 
And drink in joy from love-ht eyes 

As nectar, sweet and pure. 

497 



The ordeal of his earthly Ufe 

Has swept before his gaze, 
Where every hidden thought appears 

Exposed to fiercest rays — 
He reads its lessons clear and grand, 

As on a lighted scroll — 
And feels the waves of rapture thrill, 

Each fibre of his soul! 



The purpose of each hidden act. 

Is printed on his brow! 
And blighting woes to blessing turns, 

He reads their purpose now — 
The sorrows of his earthly state 

Prove blessings in disguise 
To burn corroding dross away, 

And Hght his lurid skies! 



Now seven suns have rose and set. 

Upon the shores of Time, 
Since Hesper crossed the vale below. 

To tread the heights sublime; 
But waiting yet in sweet content 

Beneath ambrosial bowers, 
The coming of his new-bom strength 

With full angeUc pow'rs. 
498 



Then Imogene with radiant smile 

Upon her glowing cheek, 
And gentle as the rising dawn, 

In tones of love doth speak — 
Her voice is Hke the rippHng waves 

Upon the purling stream. 
And softer than the breath of love. 

In childhood's sinless dream! 



And thus she says — "A foregleam now 

Has dawned upon thy soul, 
With ghmpses of thy destined course 

To point thee to thy goal — 
Th' unfolding of this lengthening way 

Now opening to thy view 
Is lighted by the beams of love 

To guide thy footsteps through. 



"And wisdom's ever shining sun 

Will pour upon thy face 
The golden Hght of Hving truth 

To give thee strength and grace- 
Thy song will be, 'good-will to all: 

Who dwell beneath the skies — 
'Good-will to all,' who rest above. 

In love's sweet Paradise! 

499 



"But yet awhile thou wilt remain, 

Beneath my watchful care, 
While every joy that I may cull 

To thee belongs a share; 
And every hope my bosom warms 

Shall shed its ray on thee, 
While every thought thy being thrills 

Shall find response in me." 



Then Hesper thus: — "Since first my eyes 

Beheld these spheres serene, 
One moon has rolled its silver disc 

The earth and me between; 
But yet to me its seems a year 

Of time has quickly fled, 
Such scenes of wonder deep and grand 

Before my vision sped: — 



Mysterious seems the stream of life, 

Since I've reviewed it o'er 
"From childhood's bright and joyous days 

Along its pebbly shore. 
To where I stand upon the heights 

Of these refulgent realms — 
The range of thought so vast involved 

My being overwhelms! 
500 



'*I feel the glow of love divine, 

Expansive in my soul — 
I see the light of wisdom shine 

In splendor o'er the whole! 
I hear the melodies of song 

Float softly to my ear, 
And see the golden-tinted skies. 

In grandeur now appear. 



"The grossness of my mortal state, 

Is fleeing fast away 
And soon I'll rise on wings of hght, 

These glories to survey. 
The joys of Hfe no more shall wane, 

But brighten as they flow. 
As side by side the stars we'll tread, 

And seeds of gladness sow! 



"Thy presence seems a smiling joy. 

That fills my soul with bhss — 
My light and hope in realms below. 

My angel-guide in this! 
Thy smiles are Hke bright beams of love. 

Sweet shining from thy face, 
While wreaths of roses round thy brow 

Adorn with fitting grace." 
501 



We thus behold the law of love 

That binds two souls in one — 
Where Uberty's broad aegis shines 

In brightness Hke the sun; 
Where joy descends upon the heart, 

As dew upon the flower, 
And makes the richest fragrance there 

Of beauty, love, and power. 



Where blighted hopes ne'er crush the heart, 

Nor bow the head in woe; 
Where love-Ht eyes are beaming bright. 

And tears forget to flow; 
Where Life's sweet song in dulcet tones 

O'er hill and valley rings; 
Where Hope deferred, now smiling comes. 

And full fruition brings! 



Here Hesper's life doth sweetly bloom. 

Beneath those lambent skies. 
And from the fount of love divine, 

He drinks with sweet surprise! 
He feels amid those spheres of light, 

To which he's been assigned 
That love adorns each gem of thought, 

As jewels of the mind! 
502 



Vast realms of being now beholds, 

All clothed with joyous life, 
Where love and beauty reign supreme 

Where happiness is rife! 
But yet below sees darker spheres. 

From where he rests above — 
Where longing souls in darkness wait, 

For sympathy and love. 



The sorrows of his mortal state 

Had purified his soul — 
He rose above this darkened sphere, 

And reached a brighter goal — 
The third sphere in the rising scale. 

The earth sphere being first — 
The second where dark souls await. 

Till lost is worldly thirst. 



Till grossness from their souls is purged, 

They cannot rise above — 
But here remain 'neath angel-care — 

Recipients of their love! 
This love leaps down with joyous smile. 

To lift them from their gloom, 
And then it glows with clearer ray 

The darkness to illume. 

503 



Here Imogene of purest mold, 

Is blest by doing good! 
She oft descends in mercy's name, 

With sweet angelic mood — 
Those buds of promise nipt too soon, 

Her bounty freely share — 
But now matured and rounded-out 

Beneath their mother's care. 



Their mother, too, a consort finds, 

A bright congenial soul! — 
And thus the law of love doth bind, 

All being 'neath control — 
The rosy bow'rs of nuptial bliss, 

Are robed in royal hues 
For each beholds a counterpart. 

When each the other views. 



They study here great Nature's law, 

That through all worlds doth run - 
The positive and negative — 

From molecule to sun! 
Magnetic fitness lends its aid. 

In blessing those who wed — 
While joy supreme, with pure delight 

O'er smiling homes is shed. 

504 



The blending of the sexual spheres, 

In wedded life complete 
Must open wide life's golden doors 

Where joyous spirits meet; 
Commingling thus in love's sweet rites, 

Gives mutual strength and peace 
And lifts their souls to higher spheres, 

Where love shall e'er increase. 



The home that Hesper found prepared, 

Was lovehest ever seen! 
And fairer than the smiles of joy, 

He found sweet Imogene — 
They builded better than they knew. 

In Hfe's young morning there. 
When flashed the vivid Kghtning down 

Upon the summer air. 



The love their hopes was built upon. 

Was riven by the flash — 
Their hopes lay scattered in the dust, 

Beneath the stunning crash; 
But in the loving soul of her. 

So sudden called away 
Was borne the spark of love divine. 

To burn with brighter ray. 

505 



It kindled to radiant flame, 

With pure angelic glow, 
And like a star of hope it shone 

To light the depths below! 
Sometimes did Hesper see its beams 

Upon his pathway shed. 
Or feel the sweet magnetic thrill 

By which his soul was fed. 



Her love designed this mansion fair, 

On which her hopes were staid — 
It sprung in grandeur from her heart — 

In splendors bright arrayed! 
It stood upon a hill's fair brow. 

Beside a river grand 
Where sparkling cascades murmured down. 

Upon the gHtt'ring sand. 



A Gothic structure pure it rose! 

Kissed by the balmy breeze, 
That bore rich fragrance on its wings, 

Far o'er celestial seas; 
And woke the softest strains among 

Young trees in glitt'ring green 
That waved their smiling foliage there, 

In gladness o'er the scene. 
506 



With crystal brightness fair it shone, 

Beneath celestial rays, 
High o'er the rolling tide below 

That murmurs forth its praise — 
Her love adorned with flowers chaste. 

The arbor's cool retreat 
That 'round her mansions' velvet lawn, 

In order ranged complete. 



Here music lent its magic charms, 

To chasten Love's deHght — 
While Harmony, in shining robes. 

Smiled fair upon the sight — 
Fair flowers 'round the portal twined, 

Trained by her hly hand — 
Where in the twilight's softened glow. 

Sang oft an angel-band; 



They sang of Hope, whose cheery voice. 

Beguiled the hours away — 
They sang of one who Hngered yet, 

In earth-hfe's clouded day; 
But who ere-long would find release. 

And rise to realms above, 
And in the home of one who waits. 

Drink deep the draught of love. 
507 



The wonder of this mansion fair, 

(She'd named it ''Light of Hope,") 
Was found that ne'er within its walls. 

Did Darkness dare to grope; 
Her presence ever gave it light. 

When fell Night's somber shade. 
As through its gilded chambers oft 

In expectation strayed. 



A city's turrets shine in view. 

Across the sparkling wave 
Upon the smiling plain below. 

With name of, ''Amberlave," 
For bathed in softest amber Hght, 

Her ghtt'ring towers gleam 
And shimmers through her Hghted domes. 

The sun's effulgent beam. 



South-eastward from the Light of Hope, 

Is seen this city grand 
Where happy thousands dwell in hght. 

That gilds the Spirit Land; 
With trees and flow'rs and works of art; 

That beautify the scene — 
With parks and fountains 'round about. 

And lawns of hving green! 
508 



A city of the realms of light — 

'Mid charms no tongue can tell! — 
The bright abodes of Love and Peace! 

Where countless thousands dwell; 
Resplendent beauty charms the soul! 

Where all may drink who crave — 
To all is Hfe a boon of bliss, 

Who dwell in Amberlave! 



While southward from the city lies 

Embowered in smihng groves 
A silver lake, around whose shores, 

A throng in gladness roves — 
Where melody in softest strains, 

Falls sweet upon the ear — 
And scenes enchanting to the sight, 

Delectably appear. 



And o'er its shining bosom glides, 

Where gentle breezes play. 
Full many a bark with snowy sails. 

Swift o'er the liquid way. 
And bearing on their gleaming decks 

A bright and joyous throng. 
Who thrill the soft celestial air 

With Love's delightful song! 
509 



The crystal stream that flows between, 

In majesty sublime! 
The Light of Hope, and Amberlave, 

Is named, "The Silver Chime. " 
For flowing through the flow'ry vale. 

It murmurs forth a song 
That's like a chime of silver bells, 

Its winding shores along. 



Here 'mid the glories of this realm. 

Does Hesper's spirit bloom, 
Unfolding like the fragrant rose — 

Exhaling sweet perfume! 
That opes its petals to the sun. 

To kiss the golden light, 
Or bathes in pearly drops of dew 

Beneath the shades of night. 



One decade now has passed away. 

Amid those scenes above. 
And Oh! how bright his soul does glow, 

Beneath the light of love — 
Connubial joys of purest type 

Have o'er his being shed 
Their richest fragrance — and have left 

A halo 'round his head. 
510 



The deathless love that raised his soul, 

Above all base desire 
Descends from shining spheres of light, 

Where flames celestial fire — 
Where love and truth and wisdom reign, 

With might supreme to save — 
Brought down by those with love endowed, 

Who visit Amberlave. 



Supernal wisdom from those heights. 

Does Hesper freely share — 
From higher angels robed in white. 

Who pour their treasures there; 
And thus he learns his light to shed. 

On darkened souls below — 
And thus his heart in mercy learns, 

To feel another's woe. 



The joy and happiness of home, 

Must soon o'erleap its bound 
And seek Misfortune's wailing ones, 

In darkest depths profound — 
Must )deld to Mercy's pleading voice, 

To bless whoe'er he can 
And wander 'mid the wrecks of life — 

The haunts of woe to scan! 

511 



In company with Imogene 

He quits the Light of Hope, 
Descending to the depths below 

Where souls in darkness grope, 
To aid them in their low estate, 

To reach the light above. 
Where bound in bonds of black despair. 

They feel the want of love. 



Imprisoned in those caverns dark. 

He finds full many a soul 
Who never felt the warmth of love, 

Nor knew of self-control — 
He leads them upward to the Hght, 

Where shines Hope's cheerful ray 
And leaves them fixed in firm resolve, 

To keep their upward way. 



Since from the earth away he'd passed, 

Had ne'er returned again — 
No kindred or attraction there. 

That o'er his feelings reign — 
The joy found in the Light of Hope, 

Was Hke a magnet strong 
And held him firmly to the spot, 

Where all his hopes belong. 
512 



But now he feels a strong desire 

To visit earth once more, 
Where 'neath Misfortune's stern decree, 

His great affliction bore; 
Then swiftly on the wings of light, 

He flies toward the earth 
To shed a ray of sunshine o'er, 

The planet of his birth. 



Then through the haunts of vice and woe, 

Amid the stifling air. 
An inspiration soft he breathes. 

Upon the wretched there — 
A vision bright of joy it seems, 

Within their dark abode — 
Borne down on Mercy's shining wings 

To lighten Mis'ry's load. 



Within the gloom of prison walls, 

He sheds a ray of Kght 
To cheer the wretched who are doomed 

To suffer sorrow's blight — 
He feels the curse of human hate. 

That withers with its breath 
The flower of happiness below. 

And leaves no hope but death. 

5^3 



'Tis thus his mission he performs, 

With Ught and joyous heart, 
While by his side stands Imogene, 

Performing well her part — 
Then swiftly from the earth away. 

To Light of Hope they go. 
Their faces radiant with dehght — 

That shine with brighter glow! 



From all a welcome they receive 

Who dwell in Hght above, 
For added to, two faithful hearts, 

Is universal love — 
From sphere to sphere, from sun to sun. 

Is marked their shining way 
Where glowing heights of Knowledge gleam, 

Most dazzling to survey! 



Thus Hesper's hfe doth grandly pass. 

In gathering gems of light, 
And then dispensing them among. 

Those wrapped in darkest night — 
His hfe unfolding day by day. 

While goodness he pursues — 
And blessings with a lavish hand. 

O'er scenes of sorrow strews. 

514 



Long has he dwelt at Light of Hope, 

Where joys have whelmed him o'er, 
But soon to higher spheres must rise, 

Advancing evermore — 
Here ten decades of Hfe have past, 

And full fruition brought — 
The golden fruitage garnered in, 

By deeds of goodness wrought. 



The shadow of his earthly life. 

Grows bright before his eyes — 
Its visions rises bold and clear 

With lessons grand and vdse; 
Now brightly shines the golden chain 

Around his mortal state, 
Each link was forged by Wisdom's hand, 

That bound him to his fate. 



He feels that all experience gained. 

From childhood's dawning hour 
Unfolds the deathless germ within. 

To beauty, love and pow'r — 
Th' experience of each human soul. 

Sees fitted to its place — 
Just what that human soul required, 

Best suited in its case. 

515 



The purpose grand of life discerns 

Before not understood, 
Its perfect blending ever with 

The author of all good — 
Sees happiness must come to all, 

Life's object, aim, and end! — 
And every act, of each designed, 

Its empire to extend. 



See male and female blend in one. 

In harmony secure 
To tread the everlasting heights, 

So beautiful and pure — 
Where peace and joy rounds out the soul, 

With added senses given. 
And intuition's brilliant lamp. 

Lights up the glov^ing heaven! 



These glorious thoughts so v^ise and pure, 

Nov^ dwell within his soul 
And find a home of beauty there, 

'Neath chastened self-control, 
For long he's dwelt within this sphere, 

And learned its lessons well — 
And many taught, beneath his plain. 

Who rise their joys to tell. 

516 



Imparting light, and strength and hope, 

With ever cheerful heart. 
Until his mission here is closed, 

And now he must depart, 
To higher spheres of life and thought 

To which his soul aspires, 
For Progress ever points the way 

'Neath Love's intense desires. 



They bid farewell to Light of Hope, 

And join an angel-band 
Whose home is on the shining heights. 

High in the spirit-land. 
Where joys seraphic ever reign. 

Around them on their way — 
The joys that words must ever fail 

Correctly to portray. 



Of Hesper now we take our leave, 

On that celestial shore 
Where seraphs dwell in bhss subHme, 

Progressing evermore — 
Where beams of glory ever shine 

Resplendent o'er the whole — 
And vistas grand through radiant realm. 

Break 'round his raptured soul! 

517 



THE REALMS OF NATURE 

This earth so vast on which our lives are spent, 
To some in seeming is all the universe, 
Embracing all there is that man can know, 
Or, perhaps, all he can in coming ages learn — 
The ancients of the hoary past did think 
The earth a plane and flat, and fashioned square. 
The sun and moon and stars, merely adjuncts 
In giving light and warmth to man and earth. 
And running their diurnal circuits round: 
It seems just six calendar days were spent 
To fashion the earth and fill it with life. 
When infinity became exhausted. 
And rest and recuperation followed 
And continued for one entire day. 

The thoughts conveyed above are absolete. 
Yes, are now archaic — and out of date 
And unworthy our attention or care. 
Save as an illustration of the past. 

But now new Ught is dawning on the world — 
New thought has come to lift the souls of men 
From out the darkness of the misty past 
And place them in the sheen of wisdom*s ray. 
To behold the infinitude of nature 
And the boundless scope of the universe — 
Being both beginningless and endless : 
518 



Thus man has come to realize, to some extent, 
The vastness and grandeur of nature's realms, 
There are realms upon realms through boundless 

space — 
And realms terrestial yet, dark and crude — 
And realms of Spirit life refined and pure — 
And realms supernal 'mid glories sublime. 
The conception of which is beyond our grasp — 
Let us in imagination fly with the speed of Hght 
In a line, for countless eons of ages 
Yet, we are not out of the universe, 
Nor have we drawn any nearer its confines. 
Nor can we do so because there are none. 
Therefore, let us consider the magnitude 
Of the rich enjoyment awaiting us — 
Traversing the wonderful realms of nature. 
March 20, 1903. 

A MODERN INSTANCE 

{A Family affair) 
Come gentle Muse with soul serene. 

And rest within my bower. 
And here in peace inspire my lay 

With all thy soothing power. 

That I may banish wild-eyed strife. 

From out a home once fair. 
Where all now fight with might and main 

To down each other there; 

519 



This family long had dwelt in peace, 

As all its members should, 
But now the devil seems in them all 

And lost is brotherhood; 

Each fears the other seeks the place 

That he himself would win, 
And hence they fight both day and night - 

To shove each other in, 

And many a Knight will bite the dust, 

In this unseemly fray — 
To fight the windmills each feels bound. 

And thinks to win the day; 

And thus the war goes bravely on 
With many a cheer and shout. 

And each side fights with might and main 
To shove the other out; 

E'en Nestor with his paper balls 

Hard pelts the other side — 
Without regret, without remorse. 

Just tells them all they hed! 

Then Hector with his catapult 

Its heavy bow doth draw. 
And sends an arrow quick as thought 

Straight into Nestor's maw; 
520 



And now the battle waxes hot — 

"No quarter give or take," 
At each fierce charge brave soldiers fall 

All for their party's sake: 

This family war, will ne'er give o'er. 

But pass from sire to son 
And both fight on, unto the death 

Or victory is won. 

When Greek and Trojan meet in arms ■ 

In fratricidal strife. 
The battle rages long and fierce 

Or each gives up his life. 

The places sought, will sore deceive, 
Like the wooden-horse of Troy 

They're sure at last to bring defeat, 
And sweet content destroy. 
Feb'y 21, 1898. 



521 



THE DEPARTED 

They left us in sorrow, our eyes filled with tears 
For no more shall we see them, through long roll- 
ing years. 
Their kind loving voices, we hear them no more. 
For vainly we Hsten, at the half-open door: — 

Their sweet ringing laughter, has vanished for aye. 
And the Hght from their eyes has faded away, 
Now lost in our grief, are the songs that they sung 
In the days when our lives, were so happy and 
young; 

Their love and their friendship, too sacred to last, 
We mourn when we think it a thing of the past — 
For we know that forever, we'll know them no more 
While sojourning here on this storm-beaten shore; 

Yet sometimes we think, and we know it is true. 
That love never dies, nor fades from our view, 
And that sometimes we hear their sweet voices of love 
In the silence of night from their bright homes 
above ; 

And they whisper of peace in the abodes of the 

blest. 
Where we'll join them again, and all be at rest — 
Where the love and the hope, that's been clouded in 

time 
Will shine forth in glory — with luster sublime; 

522 



Where we'll meet those dear ones, departed from 

earth ; 
And renew all the joys ever known from our birth, 
And thus are the sorrows, that afHict us below, 
Made Hghter by love of the friends that we know. 
Feb'y lo, 1901. 

LINES ADDRESSED TO MISS LILIAN DOLE 

Maiden with the mild blue eyes, 
In whose depths true wisdom lies — 
In whose heart is love and truth — 
Knowing naught but right and Truth; 
Now thy life is fair and young 
And thy joyous songs are sung. 
Thou hast chosen well thy part 
The paths of learning and of art; 
And may all thy future days 
Be as bright as wisdom's rays. 
Thou art standing now between 
Days of darkness — days of sheen , 
For thy childhood's brightest hours! 
Must give way to woman's powers; 
And remember, sorrow may 
Sometime meet thee on the way. 
For our days must come and go. 
Some with joy, and some with woe — 
Shade and sunshine sure must fall 
On the lives of one and all. 

July 26, 1901. 

523 



THE FARMER'S INSTITUTE 

There are many kinds of Institutes 

To consider many things — 
There are many kinds of people 

That are joined in many rings, 

And there are new and various topics 
Well-treated by their friends — 

And the facts all stated plainly 
When the parley quickly ends; 

The teachers have their Institutes, 
Where all, both young and old, 

Assemble, and in merry mood 
Their v^isest schemes unfold: 

The clergy, too, have Institutes, 

Of a certain unique kind, 
Where they investigate in deepest thought, 

The laws of soul and mind; 

And here they settle disputed points 
That arise in doctrine and law. 

And fix the fate of human souls 
With a tremulous feeling of awe; 

The doctors meet in their Institutes, 

And discuss the various laws 
Affecting the Ufe and health of man, 

And search for the secret cause, 

524 



And strive with utmost force of thought 

A cure for ills, to find — 
That all may Hve in health and peace 

And not to ills incHned. 

The lawyers also have their meets, 
They come in a happy mood 

Discussing many legal points, 
That does their cHents good. 

And thus the world is helped along 
Through many a rugged place. 

By institutes of various kinds 
Too numerous here to trace. 

But now the Farmers' Institute, 

The grandest of them all! 
Showers its blessings on the race 

Including great and small: 

And here the people all may come, 

And hear whate'er is said 
Of wisdom's ample field of thought, 

By special talent led. 

The man of many years will come 

And bring his aged wife — 
His sons and daughters will attend 

To increase their joys of life, 

525 



As well the man of middle life 
Comes forth to meet his friends, 

And get their very brightest thoughts 
For the past to make amends. 

The recitations and the music — 

The speeches pro and con, 
Are given wide attention here 

By the Hsteners every one. 

A hundred farmers' Institutes! 

In the state of Illinois, 
And a million people bettered 

While their hearts are filled with joy! 

They are held for all the people. 

No aristocrats are here, 
They meet with cordial greeting 

In friendUness sincere. 

And some may bring in samples 

Of their handi-work of art. 
For a modest prize in money 

Just to gratify the heart. 

While others bring choice specimens 
From garden and from farm 

The proof of nature's richest bounty 
And croakers to disarm: 
526 



Then hurrah! for the farmers' Institute, 

'Tis the glory of the state! 
It makes all the people happy 

As my story doth relate. 

So farm-folks attend the meetings 
And good-will on all bestow — 
Or whether it's rainy weather, 
Or falls the drifting snow. 
Feb'y lo, 1904. 



DESTINY 

Our destined course is ever marked 
By fate's unbending sway, 

And all must yield their being up 
On some eventful day; 

A man starts forth with hope elate - 
With visions bright as mom, 

But e'er the evening shades appear 
His heart sinks down forlorn; 

Some evil omen in the sky 
Has cast a shade of fear, 

And now he thinks disasters dire 
Most surely will appear, 
527 



And hope has vanished like a dream 

And all is dark and dread 
The lightnings flash in dreadful sheets 

With tempests overhead. 

Some start out on a bright career 

With confidence and trust, 
They think no evil's in the way 

And all is right and just; 

The ship of hfe is saiHng fast 

No clouds are in the sky 
The waves are still — no rocks in sight 

And hope serene and high; 

When suddenly the thunders roll, 
The lightning's dreadful glare 

The winds are shrieking wild and fierce 
And darkness fills the air, 

And thus our destined end is changed 
And Death rides on the gale 

And destiny and darkness reign 
And destruction doth prevail; 

And all would know their destiny 

Of what the end will be 
But none can see with certainty 

Far o'er life's shoreless sea; 
528 



The seer may tell what may betide 

Along life's mystic course, 
Or may fail in any case 

To give the facts and source; 

The occult source whence wisdom comes 

Is ever hard to find 
And all may search through life's full day 

With utmost stretch of mind; 

And this is all they'll ever reach 

To give them much renown 
"That he who's bom to die by fire 

Is never known to drown." 
January 30, 1905. 



529 



ELEMENTAL FURY 

A band of soldiers, encamped on the shore 
Of a wide-spreading lake,* now all frozen o'er; 
The season was winter, now dreadful and drear — 
The country Siberia, of which many have fear, 
The soldiers are Russians, all hardy and brown 
Who've been in the field till they've won great 

renown ; 
An order has come, to this soldier band 
To march o'er the lake, says this stern command; 
Full two-and-twenty miles, across this frozen plain 
The frigid air is fearful, — makes Hfe seem all in 

vain. 
The summons must be honored; 'tis a soldier's 

Hfe 
Whether retreating from the foe, or minghng in 

the strife; 
Midway on the march, a dreadful storm arose 
Of furious, howling winds, and thickly driving 

snows. 
No life could it withstand, its currents must con- 
geal. 
And everything must perish that has sense to feel, 
The fury of the storm, shut out the light of day 
And every soldier f perished, amid the wild dis- 
play — 
Alas! no help could reach them, from the distant 

shore, 
And in one brief hour their suffering had passed 

forevermore. 
March i, 1904. 

* Lake Baikal. f Six hundred in the band. 

530 



AT GRANDPA'S ON THE FARM 

He was a boy and I was a boy, 

My brother Burt and I, 
Together we sang and together laughed 

And sometimes together did cry — 

Together we fished and together did hunt 
For the game we found in the grove — 

We ate together and together we slept — 
Through fields and meadows did rove — 

Together we played and together rode, 

On many a Summer's day — 
Together we worked and together did rest 

While the years sped swiftly away; 

With glee we tripped to school each day 

To learn life's golden rule — 
We'd study together, together recite, 

Bright days were those at school! 

Our teacher and our schoglmates dear 

We loved to greet at morn. 
Regret at leaving them at eve 

Oppressed our hearts forlorn: 

Those joyful years have come and gone 

That gave to Hfe its charm, 
Where the sky was bright, and the air so sweet. 

At Grandpa's on the farm; 

531 



Our father dear had passed away, 

Before my brother was born, 
And I too young to feel the stroke 

That left my mother forlorn; 

But Grandpa's home had ample room, 

For mamma, Burt and I, 
So there we found a home most dear 

Where hearts beat warm and high! 

Our days and nights were bright with joy — 

Delights! our daily food — 
Our hopes serene, our skies were clear — 

No shadows dare intrude. 

We grew in strength and health the while 

From childhood up to man, 
While hopes and fears and doubts have come. 

Since life thus sweetly ran. 

Now five decades have passed away 

Since childhood's joyous hours. 
And manhood's strength been added to 

Our early youthful powers — 



Full many a change in life has come 

And many a shadow past, 
And many, and many, a golden glean 

Been o'er our pathway cast 



532 



And many a storm has spent its force 

Along our weary way — 
And many a struggle hard to keep 

Our bark from going astray; 

But Ufe's been always full of hope 

That ever gave us rest, 
And sweet has been the conscious thought 

We've been so highly blest! 

Bright hope still points our future course 
That keeps us from all harm, 

And thoughts of happy hours return 
At Grandpa's on the farm. 

February 3, 1898. 



HOME 

Home! for which the French have no name 

Is ever a castle of rest 
Where the world-sick and weary and lame 

Are by the good angels blest, 

And where sweet peace and hope abound 

And life's a treasure dear — 
Where all the joys of earth are found 

And all is bright and clear — 

533 



Where the heart is filled with delight, 
Our pathway bright and fair — 

Where forever the day and the night 
Are free from cankering care; 

And let it be ever so mean 
With only a table and chair, 

'Tis a place where the heart serene 
Knows nothing of dark despair. 

Where the love of the family so pure, 
Between the parent and child, 

Has ever been found to endure 
For none it hath ever beguiled. 

Where ever in sickness and pain 

Is found a place to rest, 
And where ever good health doth reign 

They sing the songs of the blest. 

Hence all should strive to build a home, 
And build it sweet and fair. 

When little taste there'd be to roam 
And leave such treasures rare. 

Should be adorned with works of art, 
And rarest trees and flowers, 

And all that goes to please the heart 
In this fair world of ours. 
Jan. 25, 1905. 

534 



WINTER EVENINGS 

Now all the sky is dark and drear, 

The snow is drifting fast, 
The winter winds go shrieking by 

Like demons driving past. 

For now stern winter's come again 

And hid the fields away — 
The laughing brooks he's put to sleep 

Till smiles some April day. 

The world is locked in snow and ice — 

The sunshine thin and rare. 
The great brown woods are silent now — 

The frost is everywhere! 

Storm after storm sweeps o'er the earth, 

With suffering in its train; 
No warmth outdoors for man or beast, 

And Hfe seems all in vain! 

The outdoor cold is now intense; 

No peace beneath its power! 
But now, within our warm bright homes, 

Enjoy the evening hour. 

For when the winter's fury comes, 

And all his anger brought, 
Then is the fireside's evening glow 

More cheerful for the thought. 

535 



And then beside our evening lamp, 
Our books strewn all around, 

We read the wisdom of the world 
From men of thought profound. 

With all the household gathered near 

We read aloud in turns — 
The one who reads can take his choice 

Of Byron or of Burns. 

It may be Bryant or be Pope, 

Or may be verse or prose, 
Or it may be some other one 

Whose beauties he'll disclose. 

And thus the storm may do its worst, 

Our lives are all serene, 
We Hve at peace with all the world. 

Our hopes are bright and keen. 

And 'round our fireside's evening glow 
There's joy for one and all — 

Sweet music lulls our souls to rest 
And frees our minds from thrall. 

Our lives are free from much restraint. 
We laugh and sing as well — 

We feast on fruits and nuts and cakes, 
And some fine stories tell. 
536 



We wish that all the world could be 

As happy as we feel, 
With naught on earth to make us sad, 

Or naught we must conceal. 

We read and sing and play the games 

Of light and gentle sport, 
Where all can join in free good will, 

And know no vile report. 

Where childhood's blest with peace and love 

And age is free from care, 
And here the loved ones congregate 

Where all is bright and fair. 

And thus our winter evenings are 

The brightest of our clime, 
For social and domestic joys. 

Of all the winter time. 
May 15, 1905. 

'' CITY BY THE INLAND SEA " 

Hail! fair city of the West, 
The lovelist and the best, 

I sing thy praise, — 
City by the inland sea. 
Where the air is fresh and free ; 
All are blest who dwell with thee 

With length of days. 

537 



Millions now come here to dwell, 
And these wonders love to tell 

That here abound — 
Where vast stores of merchandise 
Are the wonder of all eyes; 
Greeting all with grand surprise 

Just here are found. 
The people abiding here 
Are a people void of fear — 

Of valor bold. 
They build grand temples high, 
Reaching toward the sky. 
This truth none need deny, 

Nor stories told. 

Behold a mighty race, 
That moves with rapid pace 

The streets along. 
Their gait is light and fleet. 
Nor friend nor foe they greet 
As they hurry down the street — 

'Mid the mighty throng. 

On business now intent 
Their thoughts are ever bent 

On wildest dreams — 
Days may come, days may go, 
Nights be passing fast or slow — 
Their best thoughts they bestow 

On business schemes. 
538 



It was a city grand, 

By wisdom was it planned, 

Admired by all. 
But flames destroyed it quite 
One sad October night 
When all were crazed with fright, 

So great the fall. 

Rebuilding quick begun — 
No rest till it was done. 

So great their zeal. 
They lavished means and men 
To build it up again 
And searched the wild world then 

For iron and steel. 

Its resistance now's so great 

'T will withstand the hardest fate 

Is built to stay, 
And in glory will it stand, 
The pride of all the land; 
By greater wisdom planned 

Will stand for aye. 

January 21, 1906. 



539 



AUG 12 1908 



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